


A Matter of Discretion

by karenmcfadyyon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-28
Updated: 2010-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:26:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karenmcfadyyon/pseuds/karenmcfadyyon





	1. Chapter 1

Things had gotten weird when the troops from Earth got there, and things had been plenty scary after, but stayed weird after the crisis had passed.

John Sheppard knew Colonel Everett didn't like him much, but it wasn't something he could afford to pay a lot of attention to. He was a little surprised when Elizabeth Weir summoned him to her office and he found Rodney there with her, both waiting for them.

"Hey," he said and looked questioningly at Rodney, who was looking a little tense. "What's up?" He took the second chair across from Elizabeth's desk and looked at Rodney again.

"John, I need you to do something for me," Elizabeth said. "I want you to write me a letter resigning your commission conditionally when we again contact Earth and date it six months ago."  
   
His stomach did a lazy roll. "Everett." Well, he'd made his choice about that the same six months ago.  
   
She just looked at him.  
   
"Elizabeth, don't screw yourself for my sake. I knew the risks." But he still felt sick. Just his luck Everett was a gung-ho asshole.  
   
Her expression was mild. "I have no idea what you're talking about, John, I merely want you to document what you mentioned to me six months ago."  
   
Rodney was looking very pale. "Do it, John."  
   
"It's a lie." He shook his head. "Elizabeth, I'm not going to let either of you perjure yourselves. I knew the risks." He looked back at Rodney. "I'd do it again, too."  
   
"I'm not supporting what I view to be an immoral legal restriction." Elizabeth's conviction, obviously, was unshaken. "Nor am I the only one who feels this way. John, write the letter. Everett means to file charges."  
   
"Do you think it's right for you to go to prison?" Rodney snapped. "Because if you're going to sacrifice yourself over this, then we'll just put an end to the need for Everett to file charges."  
   
He felt as if he'd been punched in the solar plexus. "What?"  
   
"Rodney," Elizabeth's voice was soft. "That's not helpful."  
   
He stared at Rodney. "You. What."  
   
Rodney's mouth twisted. "Dammit, John, don't be a fool. I don't want you to go to prison."  
   
"They won't send me to prison." John looked at Elizabeth. "The worst is a dishonorable discharge."  
   
"John, we don't know what the political climate is back on Earth." Elizabeth's tone was calm. "So let me ask you this: if you'd been in a position to resign your commission when this relationship began, would you have?"  
   
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Thought it over seriously. "Probably. But if I resign, they'll yank me back to Earth so fast my head will spin."  
   
"No, they won't." Her smile was wintry. "If my civilian choices had proper clearance, I had absolute discretion. And you have the ATA gene."  
   
He still didn't like it. On the other hand, she was right, they didn't know what the political climate was back on Earth, although things had been going in a bad direction when they'd gone through the Gate. "All right." Reluctantly.  
   
She pushed a pen and a sheet of paper toward him. "Now."  
   
He looked at Rodney, saw relief. Sighing, he picked up the pen and began to write.  
   
Elizabeth insisted on dictating some of the bits, and he went with the flow because his head ached and his stomach was entirely upset, both because of Everett and because of Rodney, and when he'd signed it, he folded it and slid it back over to Elizabeth before getting up. "Is he planning on arresting me?"  
   
"No." Elizabeth's smile was wintry. "I invoked General O'Neill's name, that got his attention enough to nullify that threat."  
   
He nodded. "I'm going to get something to eat," he told the room at large and left before anyone could say anything else.  
   
In the mess, Ford suddenly appeared beside him, while Stackhouse and Markham both sat down across from him. Unsettled, he waited, but all they did was greet him as always and talk about the latest scuttlebutt on getting back to Earth. He wanted to tell them not to take chances with their own careers, but that would mean ripping the secrecy away and that wasn't smart, either. Not with Everett scalp-hunting. So he ate and talked and even managed to joke, and ignored Ferrell talking with Radner at another table.  
   
But the food sat like a stone in his belly, and he went back to his quarters and locked the door with a kind of scared-kid relief.  
   
He almost didn't open it when Rodney rapped on the door, but that was pointless, Rodney had the gene, he could unlock it, and besides, he didn't want to lock Rodney out.  
   
Rodney came in and sat down next to him on the bed. "What I said," he muttered, not quite looking at John. "I just. I can't." He sighed. "I won't let the bastard do this to you, you may as well know, and if it means perjuring myself, well, the hell with it."  
   
His head ached. "It's okay, Rodney."  
   
"No, it's not," Rodney flared. "I'm not about to let you sacrifice yourself because some Neanderthal thinks you've disgraced your uniform."  
   
"Rodney, I knew the risks, I don't regret it. Yeah, I'm a little scared of what this jerk is planning to do, but at least he's not planning to arrest me." He rubbed his forehead. "I just. I don't want to lose everything I've got in my life. Except maybe the Wraith." He tried to smile at Rodney,   
   
"We're not going to let that happen," Rodney told him fiercely and promptly knocked him down.  
   
Not that he was complaining. He put his face in the crook of Rodney's neck and inhaled, felt some of the tension in his gut ease. "I hate to tell you, though, I don't know that Elizabeth's plan is going to work. The Air Force doesn't *have* to accept my resignation."  
   
"O'Neill will." Rodney sounded weirdly confident.  
   
"I don't know, he's kind of a hard-ass, I think."  
   
Rodney hugged him hard and then sat up. "He is," he said and smiled without humour. "But he's got his reasons not to want to push this."  
   
John blinked and then the penny dropped. "O'Neill?" Incredulous. "Get out of here!" He sat upright, staring at Rodney.  
   
Rodney smiled again, this time with genuine amusement. "Well, I don't know it for a fact, but it's been a pretty consistent rumour for about the last six years."  
   
"Get out of here." John shook his head. "Wow. If it's true, I can see he might not want to open that can of worms."  
   
"To say the least," Rodney agreed. "Just. If we go back, watch his interactions with Dr. Daniel Jackson."  
   
"I wish you hadn't told me that," John told him. "Now I *will* be watching and if he catches me watching, I'm dead." He sat up, rubbed his forehead. "I hate this. I didn't expect to feel this way if the chance came to travel both ways."  
   
There was a rap at the door. Rodney promptly shifted to his desk chair and he got up and opened it.  
   
Bates stood there. He glanced at Rodney. "Major, could I have a word with you privately?"  
   
Rodney promptly rose. "I was just leaving." He gave Bates an unfriendly look as he went past.   
   
John sighed inwardly. He had had his own issues with Bates, but those were mostly resolved and on an even keel. "Come on in, Sergeant."  
   
Bates stepped inside, took the chair Rodney had vacated as John closed the door. "Major, I know that you and I have had our differences on occasion."  
   
He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Yes, yes, we have, but we've worked through them reasonably well, I thought."  
   
"I agree." Bates looked suddenly and equally uncomfortable. "Colonel Everett has the wrong idea about what happened to Colonel Sumner.   
   
Given Elizabeth's request, that was the last thing he'd expected to hear from Bates. "What wrong idea does he have?"

Bates looked at his hands for a moment. "He's half-convinced that you—" He looked back up at John. "He thinks you murdered Colonel Sumner."

Second blow of the day. He sat down hard on the edge of his bed. "What?" Disbelieving, and his ears were ringing. "Murdered?"

"Yes, sir." Bates folded his arms. "We've all given our statements, including Lt. Ford. The Colonel hasn't responded to them, but I don't think he's convinced."

"Murdered?" The image of Sumner wasn't one he let himself recall very often, but he let himself do so now. "I did shoot him. But he was dying, I was trying spare him from dying worse."

"I get that, sir. We all do, we've all seen the damn Wraith. But Colonel Everett, it's all abstract to him, he hasn't seen them."

Fuck. Everett wanted to arrest him for murder? "Jesus."

Bates nodded. "I wanted you to know what's going on, Major. And you know, we're going to tell the truth, you know we're going to back you. If he does take it all the way, I just…I thought you should know that."

If Everett believed that—"Bates, if he finds out you've talked to me."

Bates shrugged. "Sir, you're still in command of our guys."

Worse and worse, it was now them and us. "God."

"Yes, sir." Bates rose. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Thank you for telling me," he said. "Bates, keep people from getting into trouble with Everett. Tell them, I appreciate the thought, but I don't want anybody else getting screwed."

"I'll tell them, sir." Bates smiled grimly. "But I don't think anybody's too worried about it. Truth is truth."

He nodded. "Yeah, it is."

Bates left.

He was so screwed. Or else Atlantis was. Or something. And now his head really hurt and he was going to take something for that and go to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

John woke when the mattress shifted, raised his head to see Rodney.

"I thought we were in my quarters tonight," Rodney murmured and kissed his temple. "Go back to sleep."

"I wasn't sure that was a good idea," he admitted. "You might not want to be seen with me. What Elizabeth didn't tell us is that Everett thinks I murdered Sumner."

Rodney stopped untying his shoes. "He what?" Incredulous.

"Bates told me." He rolled over onto his back, stuffed the pillow under his head. "And here I thought he was freaking out because I was playing for the other team."

Rodney arched an eyebrow. "You'd better not be playing for anyone's team but mine, flyboy."

"I meant the science team," John said, feeling some of the oppression lift.

"I repeat," Rodney said and stood up to pull his shirt over his head.

John smiled. Snarky, sarcastic, impatient, impossible, passionate, brilliant Rodney, and he'd never have guessed how much more there was to him, or how good this would be, even when he'd known he wanted it. "So, would you really have dumped me if I hadn't written that letter?"

"Probably not." Rodney scowled and tossed his shirt on the chair. "I'm regrettably soft-headed when it comes to that look in your eyes."

He frowned. "What look?"

Rodney took off his pants and tossed them across the foot of the bed before climbing in. "That just punched in the stomach look," he said and kissed John's mouth. "I can't stand that, it kills me."

Well, he wasn't going to complain. "Cool." He snaked an arm around Rodney's waist. "I didn't even know I had a look."

"Possibly only noticeable to me," Rodney muttered and kissed the hollow of his throat before settling against John's shoulder and yawning. "Jesus, Everett has got to be insane."

"Or something." Unable to stop himself, John yawned.

"Well, Ford can back your story."

"No, he can't." His stomach knotted again. "Ford wasn't with me until after. When the Wraith had me."

Rodney sat up and frowned. "And you say Elizabeth knew?"

"I'm guessing. Maybe he's going for the two pronged approach, queer and a murderer."

Rodney frowned again. "Wonderful."

"Yeah." He slid his hand under the waistband of Rodney's shorts. "If I'm going to have the name, don't you think I should have the fun?"

"Define fun," Rodney said, straightfaced.

"That's my line," he protested, but grinned. "Enjoyment? Pleasure? A real good time?"

"How long have we been doing this?" Rodney asked thoughtfully. "Are you sure we're still supposed to be having fun?"

"Six months," John said, "The honeymoon's not over yet."

"Strictly speaking, the honeymoon only lasts a month," Rodney told him.

He smirked. There was definite interest below the waist, no matter how Rodney pretended otherwise. "So, we're hedonists, we stretched it out longer."

Rodney looked down at what his hand was doing. "So we did," he agreed and sat up to take off his t-shirt. "I can't believe how much I indulge you."

"Me either," John said and kissed Rodney's stomach before pulling his hand free and sitting up to get rid of his own clothes.

"I have no moral fiber whatsoever," Rodney sighed.

"Thank God." He helped Rodney get rid of his shorts and wrapped himself around Rodney's warm, solid body. It was impossible not to believe in hope at moments like this; he'd shed baggage here in Atlantis that he hadn't even realized he was carrying. He kissed the spot behind Rodney's ear, pressed his thigh against Rodney's thickening cock. "Oh, you feel good."

Rodney's hands cupped his ass. "Mmm, so do you."

One shift on Rodney's part, and they were damn well perfectly aligned, bodies pressed together. He rocked his hips forward, turned his head to seek Rodney's mouth with his own. He could forget all this shit for a while, let himself drown in the taste and feel and scent of the man in his arms, and that was a helluva lot better than he'd allowed himself for most of his life. Every once in a while, he still caught a trace of puzzled wonder in Rodney's eyes and it made him crazy because Rodney didn't get it, Rodney didn't understand that he'd become as necessary as breathing to John. He wasn't the dumb grunt he liked to play at times, but he couldn't find the words to explain it, either.

Sometimes, he thought, their bodies spoke more clearly than any words could; other times, he hoped. Sweet and hot and simple, and he came with a gasp, pressed his face into Rodney's neck through the aftershocks of his own orgasm and the hot slickness of Rodney's. He used his discarded shirt to mop them both up and then wrapped himself back around Rodney.

He was half-dozing when Rodney's fingers carded his hair. "John."

"Wha?" He lifted his head. "Oh. Light."

"I'll get it." Rodney kissed him suddenly. "You know that none of us are going to allow Everett to move forward with this."

"We may not have a choice," he said and sat up to get the light anyway. "Military justice."

"It's not going to happen, John. Even if he manages to get as far as formal charges, it won't happen."

"Let's not talk about it tonight." He put his forehead against Rodney's shoulder. "This is going to be a real bitch however it goes, and I just want some time tonight not to think about it."

Rodney was silent for a minute. "Okay," he said, surrendering. "Come here."

He folded himself against Rodney's side and put his face back into Rodney's neck, nuzzled. "Thought you'd never ask."

Rodney chuckled. "As if you needed to wait."

He smiled, closed his eyes again, let himself drift, comfortable and warm and allowing himself, for just one night, to believe in comparative safety.

Nothing was safe, he knew that.

Mothers died in the screech of rubber and the crash of metal and fiberglass, friends died in a hell of blood and burning fuel and twisted metal, and colleagues died in the alien embrace of something that could suck the life from a man's blood and flesh and bone. He could have died himself from tea, for God's sake. But for the moment, for the night, he was letting himself believe.

Just for tonight.

He could face the reality tomorrow.

 

Rodney was gone when he woke up, and even though he knew it was only sense, it left him in a fouler mood than, say, being suspected of murder had already left him. He found Elizabeth in her office and closed the door. "You let me believe that little farce yesterday was about me and Rodney, you let Rodney believe that, and it wasn't, was it?"

She paled a little, but held his gaze. "No, as a matter of fact, it wasn't. Frankly, I thought that might be upsetting, but not as offensive or alarming as the other."

"When were you going to tell me?" He was trying not to shout, but his voice was harsh. "When they arrested me?"

"He can't arrest you, he's got no evidence, John. Every one of the men you rescued have written statements exonerating you and describing the situation. Aiden Ford has written a detailed statement of what Colonel's Sumner's condition was when he found you." She pushed her laptop back and folded her hands. "His problem is that he's basing this suspicion on his personal feelings about Sumner's death and your reputation, and probably because you followed my orders instead of his."

"He's now the ranking officer in Atlantis," he told her, but his temper had eased slightly. "He not only has the right, he has the duty to arrest me if he really believes that I'm guilty."

"Not according to this, John." She tapped a folded piece of paper that he guessed was his formal letter. "According to this, my view is that you may be a civilian. And as a civilian, you're one of mine." She lifted her chin. "And, as a civilian, you're accorded protections under civil jurisdiction."

He stared at her. "I didn't think you brought any judges or lawyers."

Her mouth quirked. "No, I didn't. I'm more or less the civil law here in Atlantis, and if it came to that, you'd have a jury of your peers."

He reached for a chair and sat down suddenly. "You're—oh."

"Exactly." Her smile was just as wintry as it had been the day before, but he suspected, given that she was gazing into some unknown distance, he suspected it was for Everett.

Everett had pissed off the wrong person, John thought, and a little bubble of lunatic laughter was trying to form in his chest. "Elizabeth, have you thought about this?"

"Very carefully." Her gaze came back to him, and her smile became warmer. "Very carefully, John. I'm sorry for the deception yesterday. It just seemed…when you jumped to that conclusion, it seemed less painful than telling you what was really going on."

He considered that. "Apology accepted. But you owe Rodney one, too. He's been obsessing for months for about ruining my career."

Elizabeth winced. "I'll talk with him today."

"Thanks." He sighed. "Everett could still just shoot me, you know."

"Unlikely," she said and almost smiled. "He's a bit deluded, but not insane. And why do you think so many of your men are hanging around where ever you are?"

He stared. "Please tell me that you don't have them outside my quarters."

She laughed outright. "No, not deliberately. But Aiden told me two days ago he was keeping an eye out for you and was making sure that everyone else did, too."

"Does everyone know?" The idea made his skin prickle, as if he were ashamed, but the only thing he was ashamed of was not being able to save Sumner, was not realizing that the bitch Wraith would drain the rest of Sumner's life from him to heal the wounds John had dealt.

"No." Elizabeth's voice was sharp. "No, only your men. And that's because of Everett and his interrogations. The rest of our people know only that he doesn't like you." She shrugged, tucked a lock of hair behind one ear. "Gossip travels fast in the scientific community."

"I've noticed." He leaned forward, rested his arms on his knees. "So, I I'm a civilian now." It was a weird and unsettling thought.

Her mouth quirked again. "Not yet. Not until I have to use that letter, not until General O'Neill personally get it. I have a feeling General O'Neill is smarter than Everett. And, he's smart enough to listen to what I have to say and not just to Everett."

It was hard to ask the next question. "Am I still a team leader?"

"Of course." She smiled faintly. "With your flight skills and your experience off-world already, only a fool would take you off the team. I may not like Everett, but I don't think he's a fool, he's not going to fight me on that. Of course, until we get these other issues resolved, it's unlikely we'll be going off world for a bit. Still, the mainland still needs regular transport, so you can get your flying fix."

He managed to smile. "Okay. So what else do I do?"

"I think, for the moment, you're still Major Sheppard and therefore you have your own regular duties."

She was dicing logic and fact exceedingly thin. He hesitated, then said it anyway. "Elizabeth, we need to be careful with this us and them thing."

"I know, John." She said it gently. "But I'm not going to just give up to Everett. So, we have a polite stand-off, and his people can see we're not out of control or reckless. We're fulfilling our mission duties and very much Earth's expedition. We just aren't Colonel Everett's."

He finally nodded. "Okay. Well. I guess I better get to work as usual, then."

She did smile then. "Yes, you should. And as far as Everett knows, you're Atlantis' highest ranking office, so don't give him an inch. You're still a major until such time as I accept him as the ranking military officer."

She really was playing a chancy game, he thought but had to smile a little. "Remind me not to play chess with you. Okay, back to work."

Of course, that was easier said than done, under the eyes of Everett's men, but he was an old hand at putting up with the unfriendly looks and carried on as usual.

He didn't see Everett at all, which meant that Everett was probably hugely pissed that he didn't have a case and doubly meant that he'd better step very carefully when he did run into Everett. That part didn't alarm him, but it did make him more cautious when he slipped into Rodney's quarters that night.

Rodney arrived with an irritated expression, but lost it immediately when he saw John. "Are you lost?

John raised his middle finger.

"Please," Rodney said politely and then flung himself down on the bed. "What are you doing to my laptop?"

"Playing solitaire. Long day?"

"Oh, yes. Major Ferrell is as much of an asshole as Everett."

"What were you doing talking to Ferrell?" He had already gotten rid of his boots; now he stood up and pulled his shirt off before going over to sprawl next to Rodney. "You have a thing for majors?"

"Only for one specific and major pain in the neck," Rodney said and leaned over to kiss the edge of his jaw. "And I wasn't precisely talking to him, I was listening to him bark orders and get pissed off because no one asked how high."

John frowned. "Who was he barking at?"

Rodney kissed him again. "Scientists."

John rolled his eyes. "Jeez, what crack is he smoking?"

Rodney laughed out loud. "Exactly. How was your day?"

"Weird. Elizabeth talk to you?"

"Yes." Rodney's expression was pensive for a moment. "She apologized to me."

John raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"And I really didn't expect her to." Rodney shrugged. "It was oddly unsettling."

"What, that you couldn't tell yourself you destroyed my career?"

"You are lost," Rodney said firmly. "Go home."

He tried for a winning smile. "I was just joking."

"Was I laughing?"

"I bet I could make you laugh," John hooked a finger in Rodney's collar.

"You frequently do," Rodney told him.

"With me, not at me."

Rodney's mouth twitched and he kissed John's jaw again. "Well, that's not fun."

"You're trying to wind me up," John told him. "And it's not going to work."

"It already has." Rodney sat up and swung his legs back over the side of the bed.

John frowned. "You're in a weird mood."

Rodney leaned over to get rid of his shoes. "Why do you say that?"

"You don't usually try to make me think you're having fun when you're not." The words didn't come out in the tone he intended.

Rodney turned around and gave him an unreadable look. "What?"

His stomach did an uneasy little roll. "Nothing."

Rodney sighed. "It was a long day." He slid back, put an arm over John's chest and leaned down to kiss his mouth, slow and sweet.

That helped. He returned the kiss, wrapped one arm around Rodney's shoulders, laughed a little with pleasure when Rodney's mouth left his and traveled down his jaw and to the spot behind his ear.

Rodney drew back a little, touched John's mouth. "How was your day really?"

He sighed. "Tense."

Rodney arched an eyebrow.

"Like walking on eggs. I'm trying to keep things from deteriorating into that us or them situation, and Everett's people aren't helping. And, I'm trying not to do things that overtly step on Everett's toes while still following Elizabeth's orders."

"Tense," Rodney agreed softly. "Any trouble?"

"No. But some of Everett's people are really carrying attitude." Rodney's fingers moved in a circle on his chest, and boy, that felt good. The tension started bleeding away almost instantly.

"Marines." Rodney slid down, put his head on John's chest. "I thought Stackhouse was going to have a stroke today from the color he turned, but Bates kept him cool. That captain, what's his name? I don't know what he was going on about, but whatever it was really seemed to infuriate Stackhouse."

He put his fingers into Rodney's hair. "Thank God Bates kept things cool. It's like Everett's people are trying to stir up trouble."

"Brilliantly observant as always." But Rodney's tone was teasing. "Yeah, well, we'll have the gate open one way soon and we can send them back."

"I don't think Everett's going to go back. Remember, the Pentagon wanted him to take over command here. And that still hasn't been resolved, even if they finally agreed to leave Elizabeth in charge of the expedition."

Rodney sighed. "If he takes command of the military team, what are you going to do?"

He smiled ruefully at the ceiling. "I guess I'll have to keep my fingers crossed the Air Force accepts my resignation and keep out of his way."

"We could go back to Earth," Rodney said softly.

"And miss all the fun? It would drive you nuts knowing all the stuff out here that you didn't get a chance to find."

Rodney was silent a moment. "*You* could go back to Earth."

"No, I couldn't." He was afraid to look at Rodney, kept looking at the ceiling.

Rodney chuckled. "Well, good."

That eased him, he looked down. "I think so."

Rodney sat up again. "Let get some sleep. We've both had really crappy days."

"Sounds good to me." He shimmied out of his jeans and got between the sheets, stretched out against Rodney once he was in bed. "Have I mentioned recently that you have a terrific ass?"

"Not that I recall," Rodney told him, "But please, feel free to amend that omission."

He snickered, grabbed a handful of it when Rodney stretched up to turn off the light. "A really terrific ass."

Rodney snorted and turned around to face him, put one leg between his. "Don't start something we're both too tired to finish."

"But it's fun, even if we don't," John muttered and kissed Rodney's chin.

"True," Rodney agreed and kissed him back.

Slow and lazy, and they were both tired, so it didn't get too hot or hard, just sort of sleepy, affectionate making out and then he put his face in Rodney's neck, felt Rodney's fingers curl around his nape and just let go.

He slept badly, though, and toward morning, he dreamt of the Wraith walking in Atlantis, which left him wide awake and feeling the tag end of the adrenaline rush of terror from the nightmare. His watch said 2 pm and his party trick let him calculate the difference between a 24 hour day and Atlantis' time, which put it at about 4 ack emma, give or take twenty minutes. Sighing, he got up and pulled his clothes on in the pearly grey pre-dawn light from the windows. Rodney stirred a little when he sat down on the bed to put his boots on. "Wharra?"

He grinned, leaned down to kiss Rodney's temple. "Go back to sleep. I'm sneaking back to my quarters."

Rodney mumbled something inaudible and put his face back into the pillow. He smiled, put his boots on and then left. The corridors were dimly lit and empty, for the most part, although when he passed by, he could hear voices from the control room. A quick side trip and he made sure they were Atlantis personnel before heading back toward his quarters.

The rising tension between the two groups had him worried, and he wasn't sure that Elizabeth really understood what was going on Going through the gate on a possibly one-way trip, isolation from Earth, and the threat of the Wraith had banded both military personnel and the scientists together as a team, regardless of how poorly they would have otherwise done.

Everett and his people didn't understand that, and regarded it with suspicion, as if their Atlantis counterparts had gone native or defected. Everett might loathe him and might, at this point, regard Ford with some doubt, but he'd bet his back salary that he could send Ford and Markham into the other group and with the right subjects of conversation remind the new guys that all their loyalties lay with Earth.

He was thinking about the best way to accomplish that when he turned the last corner before his quarters and walked out of his life and into blackness.


	3. Chapter 3

It was Rodney's voice that woke him, John thought groggily, but there was sunlight streaming in across the bed and it was in his eyes, so maybe it was that.

He turned his head to the side and squinted to see Rodney reading out loud to him, realized he was in an infirmary bed, in one of the small rooms Beckett used to give patients some privacy.

Had he been sick again? He didn't remember being sick, but then he didn't seem to remember anything else that would have ended up with him in the infirmary.

And he was all hooked up to monitors, an IV and god, a catheter, and that totally sucked, but Rodney was there, reading to him, and hadn't noticed he was awake. He wondered how long he'd been sick and tried to say something, but his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth, and all that came out was a sort of guttural croak.

Rodney looked up, eyes wide and dropped the book. "John?" As if he didn't quite believe it. "John!"

He was so fucking thirsty. He managed to get his tongue unstuck. "'ater," he husked.

Rodney went chalky, leapt up and did something he couldn't see, and then he was back, leaning over the bed and guiding a straw to John's mouth. "Just a sip, John, I don't even know if I should be letting you have this."

He must have been sick. Really, really sick, if he couldn't remember a fucking thing. John took more than a sip, but it unglued the rest of his mouth and he could swallow. "Thanks." His voice was still rusty, but better. "Have I been sick?" The truth was, Rodney looked like he'd been sick too, he was thinner and there were smudges beneath his eyes like bruises.

Rodney's hand was trembling minutely. "Not exactly. Hang on, I just buzzed for the nurse."

"Not 'xactly?" He frowned, and raised his hand to shade his eye, squinted at Rodney again. "Why'm I here?"

Rodney's fingertips brushed his cheek. "You were hurt, John."

"How?" He felt horribly as if he'd slipped into an alternate reality, except this was definitely Rodney, his Rodney, who leaned over him to shade him from the sun.

"Hang on, I'll do something about that." Rodney disappeared from his immediate range of vision, but then it was okay, the brightness dimmed to a tolerable level, and Rodney was back. "Better?"

"Much." He tried to push himself to a sitting position, found he could hardly lift himself. "Fuck, how sick was I?"

"You weren't sick, John, you were hurt." Rodney was back at his bedside and the back of the bed rose gently just a bit. "Better?"

"Yeah." He looked around, saw the door open and a nurse appear.

"Get Dr. Beckett immediately," Rodney barked. She stared at John wide-eyed and went.

"What happened?" His head itched, he raised his hand to it and found his hair was a lot shorter than he remembered and that the itch was centered in what felt like the ridge of a thin scar that began behind his ear and snaked around the back. Seriously freaked out now, he tried to sit up again. "What happened?"

"Easy, John." Rodney lowered the rail and sat down on the side of the bed, put a hand on his chest. "Just lie back, it's—you were hurt, you had a lot of injuries, Carson took a chance with some Ancient technology and it saved your life, but you've been unconscious a long time."

"How did I get hurt?" He frowned, trying hard to remember something, anything, but the last thing he remembered was being in Rodney's quarters after a nightmare about the Wraith. "Did the Wraith attack again?"

"No." Rodney hesitated. "I'll tell you, John, I promise I will, but not yet, okay? Right now, the only thing you have to know is that you're all right, and that a lot of people are going to be nearly as happy as I am."

For the first time, he noticed that Rodney's eyes were red-rimmed. "Are you okay?"

Rodney laughed shakily. "I'm fine, just…just a little tired and a little shocked. I didn't expect you to wake up today." He looked away and John saw a muscle in his jaw jump. "I wasn't sure you were ever going to wake up."

Okay, he was seriously freaking out. "How long have I been out, Rodney?" He took hold of Rodney's wrist and was freshly shocked at how weak he was. "How long?"

Rodney put his free hand over John's. "It's okay, John. It's been almost nine weeks."

Two months and then some. Oh, fuck. "Everett?" he asked thinly, "Any trouble with Everett?"

Rodney's expression went strange for a moment. "No," he said finally, "Not really. We've gotten the 'gate working both ways, but it's such a tremendous drain of power, we only use it for emergencies. We got an influx of volunteers again, more Air Force personnel, including the new military commander, Colonel Borden."

He didn't know that name. Two months and then some. He felt stupid and thick-headed and put his hand to his face. "Was anybody else hurt?"

Rodney shook his head, and that muscle in his jaw jumped again. "No, no, everyone's fine, you were the only one hurt."

It was going to drive him crazy. "What happened?" His voice rose again, cracked. "Rodney, what happened to me?"

"Dear merciful God." Beckett's voice and Beckett all but ran to the bed. "He just woke up?"

"He woke up and wanted some water," Rodney said flatly. "He knows who he is, Carson, and he knows who we are, so don't bother. He knows it's been nine weeks."

His heart was hammering. "What happened to me?"

Beckett put a hand on his shoulder. "Lad, lad, give yourself some time, we weren't sure you'd even be back with us. Everyone here is safe, there's nothing for you to worry about."

"Four of the Marines that came with Everett beat you nearly to death," Rodney said softly, "I didn't know fists and feet could do that much damage, but apparently, that's what they used."

He tasted bile in the back of his throat. "Why?"

"They're not saying," Beckett said, just as softly. "So far as we know. They're back on Earth, lad, being held for trial."

"Courts martial," Rodney said flatly. "One of them told Ford that they were only going to interrogate you about Sumner, but things got out of hand. But then the SGC opened the gate and came through and collected them all, so it wasn't up to Ford and he never got to question them again."

He couldn't wrap his mind around it. "And Everett? Did he order it?"

"I think so, Ford thinks so, but unless one of them finally confesses to everything, I don't suppose we'll know. And even if one of them does, I'm not sure we'll know. Whoever's in charge of this thing on Earth isn't talking much to us, and if they're talking to General O'Neill, he's not passing it on." Rodney's expression was bitter.

Not one thing, not one fragment or image or—and then, he had the brief visceral memory of agony while his cheek was pressed against cool floor, of the sound of breaking bones that he knew were his own. Rodney's grip brought him back from that, and he was gasping, partly curled around their joined hands. "Oh."

"John, do you hurt anywhere?" Beckett was gently, but inexorably, pressing him back.

"No, no." He caught his breath. "I just. I just remember pain."

Rodney and Becket exchanged a look. "Pain?" Rodney's voice was flat again.

"My ribs," he said slowly, sorting it out. "And my chest."

Rodney's thumb rubbed the side of his wrist. "You had broken ribs," he told John soberly.

"And a ruptured spleen," Beckett added. "John, lad, you may not get all those memories back. I, for one, would count it a blessing if you did not."

"My head hurt," he said slowly and raised a hand to touch his cheek. "My face."

"Fractured cheekbone and jaw," Rodney said, as if reciting a grocery list. "Fractured skull."

Beckett gave him a reproving look. "We took a chance, John, I used some of the Ancient technology that Rodney's been researching in hopes we could save you. Otherwise, you would almost certainly have died, and if you had lived, well, the damage could have been serious."

He touched his face, felt some odd, tingling spots high up on his cheek. "Am I messed up?"

"God, no." Rodney shook his head. "No, Carson and the other surgeon from Earth, what was her name, Carson?"

"Colonel Jeannine Brighton, she's a plastic surgeon, works with facial injuries, she put you as right as rain, lad." Beckett was patting him again. "And it wasna so bad as it might have been."

If Rodney hadn't been holding onto his hands, they would have been shaking like he had the DTs, he thought and closed his eyes briefly. "Can I have some more water, please?"

"Yes, of course. Do you think you could manage a bit of juice, perhaps?" Beckett had brightened again.

The thought made his mouth water. "Yeah, please, I'm starving."

Rodney flinched. "Maybe some broth, too, Carson?"

Beckett stopped patting him and patted Rodney. "Oh, aye, I'll have a few light things brought, see if he can't manage a bit of everything." He clasped Rodney's shoulder. "Rodney, you made the right decision, regardless."

Rodney managed a faint smile. "And he's awake, so it doesn't matter."

"Exactly."

He looked at Rodney once Beckett had gone. "What did that mean?"

Rodney held the straw to his mouth again. "The consensus was that you weren't going to wake up. You…evidently, you had a living will, and I talked to Elizabeth because Carson didn't want to honor it." His eyes had gotten redder. "He. They." He stopped and met John's gaze. "They had you on a feeding tube, and I, I made Carson take it out. The monitors were giving very anomalous readings on brain activity and we thought it might be because of the Ancient device Carson used to work on your head injury."

Oh. "Hey, that's probably why I woke up, I'm hungry." He was suddenly furious at Carson and at Elizabeth for letting Rodney bear the weight of this decision.

Rodney held the straw again, let him drink more. He suspected it was to shut him up, but drank anyway. When Rodney put the cup back on the table, he closed his fingers around Rodney's wrist again. "Carson's right, you know. You did the right thing. If I hadn't been, you know, all here, I wouldn't have wanted to live like that."

Rodney shook his head. "I gave up too soon. I should have known I was letting my emotions affect my thinking."

He was suddenly exhausted. "Maybe, but I appreciate the fact that you cared enough about me not to let me just exist as a vegetable." He tried to hold on to Rodney's wrist, but Rodney got off the bed, lowered it slightly. "Don't leave, okay?"

"I'm not going anywhere." Rodney sounded tired.

He heard that, ached for it. "'m just going to close my eyes for a minute, okay? Don't leave."

Rodney put the rail back up, leaned on it. "John, I'm right here." Touched his cheek again. "It's all right. Just rest."

He couldn't help himself. His eyelids fell as if weighted and he fumbled his hand up to touch Rodney's before sleep dragged him under.

The next time he woke, Beckett was there again, checking the monitors, and there was a covered tray on the bed table. "Hi, Doc," he said rustily. "Hey, do I have to have all this, you know, stuff? Can we lose the IV and the, uh—" He gestured.

Beckett nodded. "Aye, I think we can. I wanted to be sure you were still clear when you woke again, but you're certainly lucid."

He reached for the control, adjusted the bed and was amazed at how shaky that left him. "Where's Rodney?"

"I sent him to get some supper." Beckett pressed the call button. "I'm going to keep the monitors on for the moment, John, at least another 24 hours."

"Is Rodney okay, Doc?" He was actually glad that Rodney was gone for the moment.

Beckett gave him a long, assessing look. "He's well enough, John. He'll be better now."

He nodded. "It's just, he's lost weight, and he looks like hell."

"Not much sleep," Beckett said and the nurse came in. Becket spoke quietly to her and she went back out. "He's been working fairly intensively on medical technology for the last few months."

It made his eyes sting. "Trying to figure out a way to wake me up."

Beckett nodded, his expression kind. "Aye, that he has been."

The nurse came back and without much fuss, Beckett snapped on latex gloves and took care of the IV first and snapped a bandaid over the hole left by the damn thing. Then, having disposed of that, Beckett lifted his blankets, and whoa, he had to force himself not to curl up reflexively, there was a minute of something downright painful and the damn catheter was out. "Whoa," he gasped. "Jesus, that, uh, that's better. I think."

"What's better?" Rodney came in, looking better than he had earlier.

"Freedom," Beckett told him and handed the whole thing to the nurse. "Of course, he may think twice about it once he's stuck with the bedpan." He stripped off the gloves inside out and put them in the pocket of his white jacket.

"Nonsense, I'll give him a hand." Rodney looked at John. "How are you feeling now?"

He resisted the urge to clutch at himself. "A little worse for the wear," he told Rodney and got a real smile.

Beckett chuckled. "Are you ready to try some soup?"

"God, yes." He looked hopefully at the tray. "Is that it?"

"Oh, aye." Beckett chuckled again, pushed the table over the bed for him and lifted the lid from the tray. "Nice and hot, lad. Take it slow, please, we don't want to see it again."

"Oh, yeah." The smell of what looked like ordinary chicken soup made his mouth flood. "Is this real chicken soup?"

"That it is," Beckett told him cheerfully. "Let's just say that Elizabeth took the chance to stock up on supplies when the SGC managed to open the gate from their side."

He didn't take any chances with the spoon, given that he was still a little shaky, he just lifted the bowl and took a swallow. Oh, God, yes, it was real chicken soup, missing meat and soggy noodles and all, the taste of home and old memories. He took a second swallow, smiled at Rodney over the rim of the bowl.

Rodney was watching him, his expression still a little stunned. "Carson, are you sure he's all right?"

"Look at the monitors, Rodney. I'll be doing some neurological tests over the next day or so, and he's got a bit of physical therapy ahead of him, no doubt, but he's fine." Beckett's tone was patient.

"*He's* right here," John said, between swallows.

"Sorry." Rodney glanced at Beckett, grimaced. "I'm, ah, it's a habit. Sorry, John."

That gave him a pang. He put the bowl down. "No crackers?"

"Your stomach needs some time to get used to the liquids before we start with solids," Beckett said gently. "However, if that stays down, I think we can move on to something besides clear liquids."

He nodded, took up the bowl again. Rodney was still freaking out, and he couldn't blame him. He was freaking out a little himself. Two fucking months of his life, gone, totally gone. Two months of Rodney driving himself into the ground, two months of….well, whatever the hell had gone on while he was lying around in a coma. He drank more soup, smiled again at Rodney. "Hey, sit down."

Rodney nodded, glanced to make sure of the chair and sat.

Beckett smiled, patted John on the leg and left.

"You got some rest when I did," John said, feeling oddly tentative.

"Oh, well, yeah, a little." Rodney stood up suddenly, folded his arms and started pacing. "Carson had them bring a cot in, because I'd told you I wouldn't leave." He offered John an apologetic look. "But he made me actually leave to get something to eat when I woke up."

"S'okay," John said, a little stricken by Rodney's expression. "I was just being freaky, you know, about you staying."

Rodney stopped pacing. "I can understand that." He put his hands on the foot of the bed, leaned in. "I'm feeling the same way, actually. I'm not sure I'm handling this well at all. I'd accepted that you were gone, I'd made a decision based on that fact, and I made the wrong decision, totally wrong."

Appalled, John stared at him. "Rodney?"

"I really blew it." Rodney was looking at his hands. "You would have starved to death with the feeding tube out."

"Hey, Beckett wouldn't have done it if he didn't agree." He said it faintly, because Rodney, Rodney was working up to a real case of blame, and he didn't know what to say or do to stop it.

"While I sat there reading to you. The only thing I could do was let you die to War and Peace."

"Well, you know, I never have finished it." His voice wobbled. He left Rodney's room one night and woke up two months later in the infirmary and everything, apparently, was blown to hell and gone in his life and he was still trying to play catchup.

Rodney looked up, saw his face. "Don't you get it, you would have died. I made that decision."

He put the bowl down, shoved the table away. "You wouldn't have killed me, Rodney." He believed that, he did. But Rodney, hell, he knew Rodney, when Rodney got these fixations, it took a lot to shake them, and he didn't think he could do it at the moment, not when he still hadn't gotten his feet under him. "Rodney, you wouldn't have done anything wrong, you were following my wishes, so just fucking stop, okay? Just stop." His head ached suddenly and the light hurt his eyes and he had to get up, get out of bed, he had to move….but the minute he had his legs over the side of the bed, he felt dizzy and a little sick.

"John." Rodney was holding on to him. "Shutting up now, okay? Just calm down."

He let his head fall forward, rested his forehead on Rodney's shoulder. "Don't do this. Please, don't do this."

"Shutting up now," Rodney repeated and put a hand on the back of his neck. Rodney's fingers felt cool and soothing. "Shutting up now. John, just sit back, I don't think you're quite up to getting out of bed."

"Everything's fucked," John said and wrapped his fingers around Rodney's biceps. "The last thing I remember, we were okay, we were good, and bam, everything's gone, everything's fucked."

Rodney didn't say anything for almost too long, but then John felt beard stubble catch in his hair, felt Rodney's other arm go around him. "Just a little fucked up, not fucked, John."

The last thing he remembered was sitting up in bed, Rodney warm and sleeping beside him, his pulse hammering from some stupid nightmare. He should have just lain back down and gone back to sleep, but instead, he'd gotten up and gotten dressed and walked head on into a disaster that he couldn't remember. His eyes were wet, he hated that, hated the weakness that made it hard to sit up and he was trembling minutely.

"Come on," Rodney said softly. "Lie back, John."

He didn't want to, but it was obvious he wasn't going anywhere. "Can you do something about that light?"

"Too bright?" Rodney helped him get his legs back into the bed. "I think it adjusts down."

He slumped back against the pillow, put his arm over his eyes. "Yeah, way too bright." His stomach began to settle again, but his headache didn't. "Can you ask Beckett for some Tylenol? I've got a headache."

"Yeah." Rodney pulled the blankets over him. "John, I'm sorry."

He put out his other hand, fumbled for Rodney's, and held on. "Just, don't. Don't be sorry, don't fucking blame yourself." His head throbbed in time to his heartbeat. "I just. I can't, Rodney. This is all so fucked up."

"Easy," Rodney said softly. "Okay, I'll try, John, I swear I will. I'm pressing the call button, okay, we'll get the nurse to get something. Just try and relax."

He took in one breath and then another and Rodney stepped between the light and his head, and the headache eased a little. "I'm okay."

"I know." Rodney's fingers curled around his. "Just close your eyes, John. Someone will be here in a minute."

He did.

After a moment, Beckett's voice. "What is it?" A little sharp.

"Headache. Light bothers him."

"Ah. John, let me have a look."

He really didn't want to uncover his eyes, but he did, and endured penlights shining in his eyes, questions about how and where and why, and then, after a few more minutes, an injection in the back of his arm, and finally a truly weird sensation like the after-rush of adrenaline. The headache abruptly lifted without anything snowing him, but he was absurdly tired anyway.

Beckett watched him. "Better?" Concerned.

"Yeah," he said and rubbed his forehead. "That was fast. Thanks."

Rodney's expression was tense. "So now he has migraines?"

"Evidently." Beckett exchanged a long look with Rodney. "Still hungry?"

"Not at the moment," he admitted, "I think I could sleep a little, though."

"I'll leave the light down," Rodney murmured.

That seemed to be that, and John wasn't up to dealing with anything else, so he closed his eyes and drifted.

John slept restlessly, woke a few times for just a moment to hear Beckett talking to Rodney in a low voice, to hear Elizabeth's voice in the hall, and finally woke all the way up to see Rodney asleep on a cot nearby while Elizabeth sat in the bedside chair, reading silently.

Elizabeth looked up before he could unstick his tongue again. The smile that broke was almost brilliant and it put a lump in his throat. "Hi, John. Welcome back." Very softly.

"Could I have some water?"

She got up, setting the book aside, and brought him a cup of water. "They've got some juice and ice cream for you out at the nursing station. Do you think you could manage a little?

"Don't wake him up." John lifted his chin in the direction of the cot.

"I won't." She smiled at him again. "He's been asleep for just a few hours, John."

John nodded. "Ice cream sounds good, actually."

"I'll get it." She put the cup back and vanished into the dimness near the door.

John tried to push himself upright again, and managed well enough to reach the button and adjust the bed again. The effort left him sweaty and shaking, but Elizabeth's expression was fairly impressed when she returned with two small containers and a plastic spoon. "You're kind of a miracle, John Sheppard."

He managed to get the lid off one container, dug the spoon in and got it to his mouth without dropping the spoonful. God, it tasted like….paradise. Plain old vanilla ice cream, and it tasted like paradise. "'S good," he said, resisting the impulse to whimper happily. "Really good."

Rodney sat up suddenly, and swung his legs onto the floor. "Elizabeth," irritably.

Elizabeth winced. "I'm sorry, Rodney, John didn't want to wake you."

John held his spoon up. "Look, ice cream."

Rodney squinted. "Oh, that's nutritious, certainly."

"They're getting him something hot from the mess," Elizabeth said, and it was obvious she was trying not to smile. "Carson said this was good for a snack."

"'S very good," John said, around another mouthful.

"Would you like some?" Elizabeth asked Rodney kindly. "They have more."

Rodney put his head into his hands. "No, but I wouldn't mind an IV line with coffee in it."

Elizabeth laughed softly. "I can't get the IV, but I'll bet I can get you a nice hot cup." She went past the cot, stopped to briefly clasp Rodney's shoulder. "I won't be a moment."

John watched Rodney closely, smiled when Rodney raised his head. "Hi."

Rodney got up and came to the bed in a rush. "Headache back?" he muttered.

"Nope." The first little container was empty, so John fumbled the second one open.

"Sugar, fat, and milk, what a well rounded meal."

"Well, I'm hungry," John mumbled, around another mouthful.

"Well, good, you need to put on some weight anyway." Rodney leaned on the rail, watched him eat. "Shall I get you another one?"

Okay, John wasn't the only one freaking out, he knew, but the worst of Rodney's seemed to at least be in abeyance. "I'm good." And the truth was, he was getting full. "Really." He still didn't have any clear memory of leaving Rodney's quarters after his nightmare. "How did those guys get me, anyway? The last thing I remember, I was in bed with you in your quarters."

Rodney sighed, knuckled his eyes. "You left to go back to your own quarters, you said something about sneaking back there. I think that's all you said, anyway, I was mostly asleep."

John tried to think back. "Nothing. I remember I had this crappy dream about the Wraith being in the city and woke up. And that's it."

Rodney was silent for a moment. "I agree with Carson, I think I'm just as glad that you don't. John, you don't want to remember. You'd lost a lot of blood by the time Ford literally stumbled over you. You were barely breathing. Your hands were—" His voice cracked upward briefly. "Well, you obviously fought pretty hard, let's just say that. Ford said if he hadn't recognized your clothes, he wouldn't have known it was you."

He still couldn't wrap his mind around it, still couldn't quite fathom the huge chunk gone from his life. "Where did he find me?"

"Just around the corner from your quarters, you were half in and half out of a doorway. Aiden said he thought they'd had a lookout, had seen or heard him coming."

Elizabeth came back in, carrying two cups of something that smelled like real coffee.

John sniffed. "Is one of those for me?"

"Not on your list of approved substances," Elizabeth told him firmly and gave one of the cups to Rodney. "And this one is for me."

"Unfair." But he yawned after saying it, sighed and took the last bite. "So, what's the current situation?"

"Nothing for you to worry about," Elizabeth said gently. "Your only job right now is to finish healing, John."

He flexed the fingers of one hand, found they were a little stiff. Rodney had said he'd had broken fingers. "Uh, I think nine weeks is long enough."

Elizabeth smiled a little. "Well, then, your only job is to get back on your feet and catch up with everything."

John opened his mouth to object to that, but there was a knock on the open door; distracted, he looked, saw Aiden Ford and couldn't help returning the grin bestowed on him. "Hey, Lieutenant." If Ford's grin got any bigger, he thought, his face was going to split.

"Major," Ford said and came in. "Damn, it's good to have you back."

"So they keep telling me." John rolled his eyes. "But I didn't know I was gone, so—" He shrugged.

Ford nodded happily. "I just got back from off-world, Doc Beckett told us. Teyla's on her way, if you're up to one more visitor. We, uh, brought back some kids with us, had to get 'em settled with families over on the mainland." Ford looked at Rodney, shared a smile with him. "You probably oughta expect a bunch of visitors the next few days. People are pretty damn glad to hear the news."

"As long as they don't mind him dropping off in the middle of a conversation." Rodney's tone was affectionate and it went a long way to easing at least one of John's worries.

"Nah, I've got at least five more minutes before that," John picked up the cup of water, sipped. "You gonna fill me in on what's been happening?"

To his annoyance, Ford looked at Elizabeth, who shook her head fractionally. "Not much," Ford said and looked back at him. "Pretty quiet, really. We're still doing offworld missions, still hoping to uncover some more ZPMs so we can get a more regular schedule of contact with Earth going. Everybody's in one piece, nothing more than a few minor injuries. Stackhouse broke his ankle about a month ago, he's still hobbling, but Doc says he's healing up good."

"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?" John sighed, looked at Elizabeth. "You know, this isn't helping, it's just making me worry a lot."

She laughed softly. "John, there's nothing wrong, I just think you need to focus on getting back on your feet before you need to start hearing mission reports and trying to threat assess. Besides, between Aiden here and Colonel Borden, it's covered for the moment."

Ford grinned. "Believe me, sir, we don't want to slow down your recovery, we want you back asap."

Well, John supposed that was reassuring. "Okay, fine. I want more ice cream."

Elizabeth laughed again. "I'll get it, and then I have to meet with Colonel Borden and let him know you're among the living. Rodney, keep him in line."

Rodney arched an eyebrow. "And you think I'm capable of accomplishing that?"

Ford's grin just got bigger. "If anybody can, Rodney, yeah."

Well, John had been pretty sure that Ford had figured things out, but that more or less confirmed it, and oddly, he found he didn't give damn. He supposed nearly dying again might have played a part, but what the hell.

Teyla came in with the ice cream, and told them Elizabeth had gone on. She gave John a hug and forehead touch and beamed at him as much as Ford, which was both unsettling and nice, and Rodney, clearly, had made a serious effort to deal with his own freakout, and while John ought to feel bad that he hadn't been able to deal with Rodney's on top of his own, he just felt relief.

Best of all, when Ford and Teyla left, there was just Rodney being Rodney, only not whacked. In fact, definitely not whacked; John got a kiss, which was eminently reassuring.

"More," he demanded, and got an amused look. "I'm serious."

"You're barely awake and giving order already." But Rodney kissed his mouth again, and then his temple. "Settle down, you're still convalescent."

John wiggled his toes. "Yeah, but I'm good." Especially with the headache gone. "What was that about migraines?"

"Beckett's snap diagnosis." Rodney sighed. "I suppose, given everything, it's hardly surprising."

John frowned. "Define everything."

Rodney smirked. "All things or a group of things or all relevant matters. In this case, the laundry list of injuries on your chart."

Hmmm. "I'm coming around to your way of thinking, I'm not sure I want to know."

"Good, because I'd rather not go over them." Rodney's smirk faded. "More ice cream?"

"I'm full." John stretched, heard joints pop. "Jeez, that sounds awful."

But Rodney was laughing a little. "It does." He put a hand on John's blanketed leg. "But it's a good sound. Means they're working."

"Definitely." He yawned again, scowled. "Damn, this sucks."

But Rodney was laughing at him. "Well, you made it longer this time."

John pushed himself upright again. "Give me a hand. I'm damned if I'm going to use a bedpan when I'm awake and in my right mind."

Rodney looked askance at this ambition. "I think this is a bad idea. You were pretty wobbly earlier."

"Well, if you don't give me a hand, I'll probably fall on my face. Besides, I had a mother of a headache earlier." He smiled sunnily. "So?"

Rodney frowned. "God, you're stubborn."

"Thank you, I'll take that as a compliment."

Fortunately, Rodney seemed to think that was funny. By the time John had gotten to the bathroom and back, he was totally wiped out and his legs felt like jelly, but sugar and fat seemed to have won the day.

"Idiot," Rodney grumbled and pulled the blankets back up. "I need to have my head examined for going along with this."

"Talk to Heightmeyer." John yawned again. His legs might be jellified, but hey, they worked, and that was to the good. Two months, he thought again, and grimaced. "At least all my parts work."

"There is that," Rodney agreed. "Now, go to sleep."

His eyelids were already falling again. "Like I have a choice," he complained and yawned again.

Rodney was smiling again, though and he got another kiss, so what the hell.

And then John fell off the edge of the world again, but at least he could be pretty sure it was just short term this time.

 

The good thing was that Beckett didn't want John languishing in bed either. The bad thing was that he was one weak puppy and Beckett wouldn't let him out of the infirmary.

Although, Beckett did finally bring a treadmill in. And it really was a treadmill, too, good old Earth equipment, nothing Ancient about it.

Of course, it took John three days before he could do more than about three minutes without having to stop, so he kept multiplying those three minutes by getting on after each regrettable nap.

At least the naps weren't as frequent after four days of anything he wanted to eat, and several three minute sessions that left him sweaty and jellified.

"Aren't you getting a little carried away?" Rodney asked that evening, his tone just a little irascible.

"Hey, I have this thing about getting to the bathroom on my own," John told him, a little breathless from his last session. "And standing up in the shower instead of sitting down with a nurse just outside the curtain. Call it manly pride."

Rodney's mouth quirked. "Okay. Pride, as my grandmother used to say, goeth before a fall."

John bared his teeth. "The treadmill has a bar to keep me upright."

"For which fact we are all extremely grateful."

John couldn't help grinning. "Now I know I'm doing better, you're snarking at me."

"Snarking?" Rodney's eyebrows rose. "One of us has to be realistic."

"One of us is." John grinned again at the brief spasm of puzzlement that crossed Rodney's face. "Hah, gotcha."

"Your stunning grasp of the principles of logical debate always wins," Rodney said and spoiled the snark by smirking rather affectionately before he sat down at the foot of the bed and lifted John's stocking feet into his lap to rub them.

"Say that five times fast," John told him and snickered. "No, don't, I know you could do it."

"Why, yes, I could."

"Has Beckett given you even the slightest idea when I get to stop being a prisoner here?"

Rodney gave him a long, uninformative look. "He says you're the worst patient he's had, and since he's had me, that's saying a great deal. But he also says you're making amazing progress, and he thinks in a day or so, he might consider the possibility of releasing you."

John wiggled his toes. "So, I was thinking, if I didn't have to get up and go back to my quarters, I wouldn't have to deal with, you know, lasting trauma, and getting up in the middle of the night."

Rodney blinked. "And that means?"

"You know, there are larger living quarters than mine."

"Yes, for example, mine. I've had closets bigger than yours."

"Right. And bigger than yours."

Rodney blinked again. "Yes, that's true."

"So maybe we should just go ahead and relocate to someplace bigger." John felt unaccountably nervous, wiggled his feet again.

Rodney blinked a third time. "Is that wise?"

He felt depression hovering behind him. "Fuck wise. I'm tired of that, if I'd been unwise instead, I probably wouldn't have lost two months of my fucking life."

Rodney winced. "Ah." He let his hands rest on John's ankles. "Well. I'm not the easiest person to live with, but I think you're probably aware of that."

"And I am?" John wiggled his feet again. "Did I say to stop?"

Rodney's mouth quirked and he began to massage John's feet again. "I suppose we deserve each other. All right, did you have anything specific in mind?"

"Specific?" John blinked this time.

"As in an area, a part of the city, a level, a geographic location."

"Oh. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, and here in the city." He smiled sunnily.

"I'll see what I can do." Rodney's expression was thoughtful. "Actually, I think there may be an unoccupied place not far from my lab."

"Cool." John stretched. "Doc actually let me outside for a little while this afternoon."

"That explains why your nose is a little pink." Rodney smiled at him.

"Of course, I had guards," John told him, and when Rodney looked puzzled. "Med-tech had to sit with me." He rolled his eyes. "Like I was going to fall off the lounge or something."

Rodney laughed. "He's just afraid of letting you out of his sight for long, he knows you too well."

"Hey, I'm not reckless, I just want life to get back to what passes for normal here in Atlantis."

"I'm glad you qualified that." Rodney shook his head. "Although it's strange, isn't it? We're in another galaxy, and I know what you mean. Daily normal life is a lot less normal than it used to be, and it's a little strange to think of it as normal, but it is."

"You're confusing me."

Rodney laughed again. "Sorry, the cute and dumb thing doesn't fool me any more."

"Damn." John let his head fall back on the pillow and closed his eyes. "That feels good. I want out of here, Rodney, I want to sleep on a real bed, I want to wake up next to you, and most of all, I'd like to get laid again before I'm too old to enjoy it."

"Those sound like good goals to have." Rodney's tone was mild.

He opened his eyes and tilted his head to look at Rodney. "I want it now."

Rodney sighed. "I understand. What the hell do you want me to do? I'm not the physician in charge."

"You could talk to him. Elizabeth could talk to him. I'm not going to drop dead if he lets me out of here." John tried to pitch his voice for persuasive, but was mortally afraid it just sounded whiny.

Rodney smiled faintly. "I'll try. But he doesn't listen to me any better than he listens to you."

"Cool." John settled back again, just enjoying the attention. It kept his mind from wandering places that would only drive him nuts, since nobody would tell him any damn thing whatsoever. He hadn't even met Borden, and had no idea if Borden had even asked to meet him. "What's Borden like," he asked idly, wondering if Rodney would even tell him.

Rodney shifted. "Well, he's not quite as intelligent as you are, I don't think, but he's competent. Not inordinately rigid." Doubtful tone. "He's more congenial than Everett, at least on the surface."

"Well, he's Air Force. We're better socialized than jarheads are." John grinned at Rodney's expression. "We are!"

"You are," Rodney said. "At least marginally."

"Oh, thanks." But he couldn't stop smiling. Rodney actually seemed…relaxed. Comfortable. Happy to be with him. All of the above. "Come up here," he suggested and patted his chest.

Rodney shook his head, but smiled. "No, and don't start. We're in the infirmary."

John waved his hand vaguely. "Oh, please, pretty soon everyone who hasn't guessed or wondered is going to pretty much figure it out. I'm done pretending."

Rodney laughed softly. "You're a lunatic, but I appreciate the sentiment."

He felt a qualm. "Well, unless you don't want me to be done pretending."

Rodney gave him a long look. "Have I ever given you any indication that I give a damn about what other people's opinion of me was?"

"On rare occasions," John admitted.

"Well, there you are." He shifted John's feet to the bed. "Would you like some real coffee? I understand that you're allowed now."

"Yeah, like a quarter cup this morning." He still felt aggrieved about that.

"It doesn't help if you've developed a tendency to migraines," Rodney said kindly. "But I'm going to get some for myself, I'll sneak a small cup for you."

"You know, if Beckett would let me out of this room more often, I could just stroll down there with you."

Rodney's mouth quirked. "I think that's still a little beyond your resources. Don't get carried away."

"I heard you the first time." John arched an eyebrow, grinned at Rodney's expression. The fact was, he was feeling so much better that he wasn't at all convinced that Rodney was right about the trip being beyond his resources.

"There's this interesting new facet of communication called listening," Rodney said before leaving the room.

John grinned at the door, settled back comfortably on top of the blankets. Beckett might be keeping him prisoner, but at least he got to wear his own clothes and not the fucking hospital gown. So maybe his own clothes were still a little loose—well, a lot loose, really--he was trying to catch up; Rodney had accused him of trying to eat his own weight in food the night before, right before he'd insisted John try and eat more ice cream.

He was still smiling about that when the door opened again. "Hey, that was fast," he started to say, and then stopped.

The man who closed the door behind him was a stranger, and a stranger in a uniform and now that he looked, he saw the rank. "You must be Colonel Borden," he said calmly, but his pulse sped up a little.

Borden smiled faintly. "And you're Major Sheppard."

"Guilty as charged." John forced himself to smile. "I hope you'll excuse me for not standing at attention, Colonel, but—"

Borden raised his hand. "At ease, okay? You're a hard man to see, Major."

"I am?" He wasn't sure what that meant. "I'm here all day. And all night."

Borden's smile wasn't really amused. "It's a little hard to get in here if you aren't one of the original Atlantis team."

"Oh." John hadn't known that, but he supposed he should have. "Well, I guess they were a little worried about me."

Borden nodded. "I can't blame them, I saw you when I first got here, and frankly, I didn't expect we'd be talking this side of the pearly gates."

He grimaced. "Yeah, they tell me it was pretty bad."

"So I take it you don't remember."

That hit a tender spot, and John's fingers clenched into fists without conscious desire. "I don't remember a goddamn thing. I don't even remember being out of bed. Last thing I remember is waking up from a hinky dream about the goddamn Wraith."

"So Dr. Weir told me." Borden walked over to the window and looked out, hands behind his back. "Nice view."

"It'd be nicer if it was from somewhere else." John forced himself to relax. "But hey, these days, I'm just glad to be awake to see it."

Borden turned around, nodded. "Yeah. So what have they told you?"

What the fuck was going on, John wondered and was freshly irritated at Elizabeth's insistence on keeping him in the dark. "That Lt. Ford found me, that I had been badly beaten, had a lot of fractured bones, a lot of bleeding, and that Dr. Beckett used some Ancient medical tech to fix me up."

Borden's expression was almost pensive. "Did they tell you the results of Lt. Ford's investigation?"

"Yeah, the fact that it was four of the Marines in Colonel Everett's platoon was mentioned."

"But you don't remember anything."

He really, really didn't like this. "No, I'm afraid I don't, and frankly, it pisses me off, two and a half months of my life just dropped into a black hole, and I can't get it back, can't remember what happened, can't explain any of it."

Borden had the grace to look apologetic. "Things are a little tense between Stargate Command and the Atlantis expedition, Major, and I'm just trying to get all the information I can to pass on to General O'Neill during our next scheduled dial up. Has Dr. Weir spoken to you about any of her concerns?"

John grimaced. "Truthfully, Colonel, she keeps telling me that the only job I have right now is to get back on my feet, and I'm afraid she's convinced every other member of the original expedition crew to follow that rule. They won't even brief me on the current situation with regard to the goddamn Wraith."

Borden nodded. "Well, the situation is pretty much unchanged. The shield is holding. Going offworld—the only reason we're included on the offworld expeditions is for firepower or pilots, and believe me, it's not always comfortable even when the firepower isn't needed."

"You've got some guys with the ATA gene?" John sat up a little. "That's great, we definitely need relief pilots."

Borden's mouth quirked. "Yes, I've three pilots with the ATA gene, sent specifically for that reason."

"Great."

Borden opened his mouth and the door opened to admit Rodney, two cups in hand. Rodney stopped dead, and if looks could kill, John reckoned that Borden would be lying fileted and scalloped on the floor. "Colonel, I know you're well aware that you're not supposed to be in here." Rodney's voice was ice.

Borden gave John a sidelong look. "I was just introducing myself to Major Sheppard, Dr. McKay. Surely Dr. Weir can't object to that?"

Rodney's glare intensified. "I think you'll find she does."

"Oh, I do." Elizabeth was there, suddenly. "Colonel, if you'll come with me."

John blinked. Elizabeth was so angry there were two bright spots of color spreading out from her cheekbones. "He was just asking me what I remembered," he said, hoping to forestall an explosion.

"I'm aware of what he came to ask you," Elizabeth said levelly. "Colonel?"

Borden gave way with good grace. "It's good to see you looking so well, Major. I hope to talk with you later."

"Thanks." John watched in amazement as Borden followed Elizabeth out and closed the door. "Uh, Rodney, what just happened here?"

Rodney smiled at him, but it was obviously forced. "Elizabeth just removed Colonel Borden from your room."

"Why?"

Rodney handed him a cup. "Because he wasn't supposed to be in here."

"Why not?" John wasn't going to let it drop. "Rodney, what the *hell* is Elizabeth doing?"

"Right now? She's trying to keep you from getting harassed before you're back on your feet again. Overall? She's making the point that you are not under Borden's command, and if he wishes to interrogate you, he'll have to go through the proper channels."

John blinked. "We're all on the same team here, Rodney." Or maybe they weren't. "Aren't we?"

"More or less." Rodney didn't quite look at him, but arranged the bed table to his satisfaction and put his cup on it. "Move over."

"Move over?" He blinked again. "Oh." He obliged and Rodney put the rail down, stretched out next to him. "I thought you were telling me not to start."

"I'm not starting anything, I'm just sitting next to you." Rodney took the cup *back* from him and put it on the table. "Now, now, I'm starting something," he said and pulled John in for a kiss.

"Oh," John said against Rodney's lips and was amused at exactly *how* unintelligent he sounded. Which was kind of a relief, it meant the rest of him was firing on all cylinders too, and a little old-fashioned making out was just the cure for his irritation.

When he surfaced again, he was about three quarters of the way to being totally turned on, but Rodney laughed softly, nipped his lower lip and leaned back to retrieve his own cup of coffee.

"Hey!" John tried to put the coffee back, but Rodney nipped his throat.

"We aren't having sex in the infirmary," Rodney told him. "I have this aversion to being interrupted."

He had to admit that was a possibility, but scowled anyway. "So you got me all wound up just to cut me off."

"You aren't the only one wound up," Rodney retorted and looked at his own lap. "Believe me."

"Oh, well, in that case," John said and tried to get rid of the coffee cup again without success. "Fine, hand me mine."

Rodney did. "Maybe later, if you're lucky. Once the night shift comes on." Rodney's mouth quirked.

That was something to look forward to, he thought and let his head fall back on the pillow. "I really, really want out of here."

"And I really, really want you out of here." Rodney smiled at him for real.

That was good to hear. "I suppose now that I've recovered from the treadmill, I should take a shower."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

He resisted the urge to plant his elbow in Rodney's ribs, if only because he didn't want either of them spilling real coffee. "You wanna join me?"

"Hello? Infirmary? Interruption."

"Spoilsport."

"You really belong in the Guinness book of records," Rodney marveled. "Poisoned by a toxic alien substance, you're focused on sex; five days after waking up from a coma, you're focused on sex."

"Sex is a basic human drive." John smirked. "I'm a pretty basic guy."

"This is true." Rodney smirked and squeezed his thigh. "And don't think I don't appreciate it."

Maybe things really were going to get back to normal. John smiled at Rodney over the rim of his cup and savored his coffee. A guy could hope, anyway, and hadn't he found that he could do that when it came to Rodney?


	4. Chapter 4

"All right, John, I'm going to let you stay in quarters with some conditions." Beckett looked a little less than thrilled about saying it. "The first and foremost condition is that you are absolutely not to work at all. No reports, no briefings, no weapons, no scans, no flying, and the only time you leave your quarters you had better be sitting out on one of the terraces or a balcony. If you break that rule, you can be sure I'll have you back here inside ten minutes of the time I discover you've broken it." Long look.

John grinned. "And you've probably already gotten everybody to agree to playing narc."

Beckett's mouth twitched. "Exactly."

He nodded. "Gotcha."

"Second condition. I want you to check in with me in two days or if you get a headache or get dizzy or feel weak or develop a hangnail."

John couldn't help laughing at that. "Doc, come on, I'm not stupid."

"I know you aren't. But I do recall verra verra clearly just how stubborn you are from the last time you were my patient." Beckett's smile vanished completely.

Okay. When Beckett's Scots came out, it was time to get serious fast. "Okay, you've got it."

"Third condition. I know you want to get back into shape and back to work. But I want you to consider no more than thirty minutes a day on that treadmill until I tell you otherwise. And no weights. I'm absolutely serious on that point. I want to monitor you very carefully when you're feeling fit enough for that."

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Gotcha."

Beckett's humour had gone completely. "I know it's hard for you to really comprehend how badly hurt you were, and I really would rather not show you the images. But you've got to trust that I'm being cautious for a very good reason."

That sobered him. "I do, honestly. And you know, I don't even know how to thank you and Ford and Rodney for saving my ass." John grinned a little. "Or, in this case, my head."

Beckett cast his eyes upward. "All right, let me get a wheelchair, I'll walk you over myself."

"No, no wheelchair." John got off the bed. "I mean, how far can it be? Rodney said it wasn't too far from his lab, and his lab's not far from here."

Beckett frowned and studied him for a moment. "We'll give it a try, but if you tire, you're going to sit while I get the chair."

"Agreed."

Another long look, but Beckett nodded.

John had been right, it wasn't that far, although he had no idea where they were going and had to just let Beckett lead him. He tried to hang back and poke his head into Rodney's lab, but Beckett turned and gave him an appraising look that hinted at wheelchairs. Nothing like the threat of a wheelchair, he thought, to keep his feet moving right along, but when they turned the corner, Rodney and Elizabeth were both there, walking toward them and deep in conversation.

"….distracted, so there wasn't any more discussion," Rodney said, as they drew closer.

"Rodney," Beckett said, a little loudly.

John looked at him, arched an eyebrow. "I don't think he's deaf, Doc."

"No, I'm not." Unaccountably, Rodney was a little flushed. "I was just on my way to break him out of jail."

Beckett looked understandably jaundiced at this characterization of his infirmary, but John grinned anyway. "I think he got tired of listening to me complain."

Elizabeth laughed softly. "You?"

"I think you've been spending too much time with me if Elizabeth recognizes the truth of that," Rodney told him drily. "I don't have to sign anything, do I?"

"Just make sure he comes back to see me in two days," Beckett said mildly. "And don't let him overdo things."

"I think we can safely leave him with Rodney," Elizabeth said, still smiling.

John realized he hadn't seen her since she'd ordered Borden out of his room. "Hey, Elizabeth, what's the deal with Borden?"

She looked at him blankly. "Nothing, so far as I know. Carson, I need to talk with you a moment, so if you don't mind, I'll back that way with you."

"And you come with me," Rodney said and nudged him. "This way, just a few doors down."

Beckett and Elizabeth were already moving in the opposite direction. "Is she avoiding me?" he asked Rodney, a little perplexed.

Rodney's eyebrows rose. "Elizabeth? Why would you think that?"

Hmm. "Oh, never mind." John was suddenly nervous. "So."

Rodney laughed. "So?"

"So, um, we've got a place together, huh?"

"Isn't that what you suggested?"

John bumped Rodney. "Yes, it is."

Rodney smirked, drew him down the corridor past two more doors and then stopped in front of one, tapped the control. "I hope you're not expecting anything remarkable. It's just another set of rooms, with our joint accumulated items."

"What, no Jacuzzi?" He walked in, blinked. It was a central room with actual furniture. Ancient furniture, covered with Athosian fabrics and Elk'shan cushions, but furniture just the same. "Wow."

Rodney nudged him forward. "In here."

John looked, saw the doorway and went forward. A bed, probably his, his desk and chair and assorted belongings and the treadmill. "Cool. Where's your stuff?"

"In the other room," Rodney said.

"In the other room?" He looked at Rodney and his stomach tied itself into a knot. "We have separate bedrooms?"

"You're freaking out," Rodney said mildly. "In the event you decide you want to stay a major, I thought it might be wise to maintain some appearance of discretion."

"Discretion." John was suddenly furious. "They can try and kill me, but I'm supposed to be discreet? Are you sure this isn't about what you want?"

Rodney grabbed his upper arms and pushed him gently against the wall. "Okay, John, you're freaking out a little here. It's my turn."

John was so angry he felt dizzy. "Let go of me!"

"Not yet." Rodney kissed the corner of his mouth. "Listen to me, John. You know, listening? The other half of communication?"

He was shaking. "I'm listening."

Rodney's expression was fierce. "The truth is, I don't care what people think of me. What I do care about is you. I don't know if those bastards tried to kill you because they heard gossip or thought we were together too often or even saw one of us leaving the other's quarters. Ford says it was because of Sumner, but I didn't ask him otherwise. I don't know, that's a fact, I don't know if they decided to beat you to death because of Sumner or because they don't want queers in uniform. And I won't take that chance with your life again."

John's His eyes were wet. "This is Atlantis. This isn't—" And his voice cracked upward and Rodney gathered him up, held on tightly enough that his arms were going to have bruises.

"This is humanity," Rodney said, his tone deadly. "And I won't take that chance. If that means a little pretense, I can goddamn well live with it. You just figure out which view you like better and that's the room we'll use."

Fuck. John put his forehead on Rodney's shoulder. "I hate being so fucking whipped right now."

"I know. Come on, there's a nice comfortable bed right here, and hell, if you walked all the way here, you stubborn bastard, you're probably wiped out."

Another kiss, this one on John's temple and he found he could breathe again and felt foolish for the outburst of temper. Especially the way Rodney looked at him, affectionate and worried and yes, utterly fixed in his opinion. He couldn't say he blamed Rodney; if it had been Rodney in that infirmary and him wandering around for two months waiting for Rodney to die, he wasn't entirely sure he would have stayed completely sane. One thing he was certain of; there would have been dead Marines. "Sorry, I'm a jerk."

Rodney's smile was quirky. "We deserve each other." Laughing a little at him.

He snorted and went to sit down on the bed. "Has this one always been this soft?"

"You're used to the infirmary bed. They're like concrete slabs." Rodney's tone was dry. "Shoes off."

John scowled. "I'm not going to bed just because I walked here from the infirmary."

Rodney smirked. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not." He lifted his chin stubbornly.

A long look and Rodney sighed. "Well, I am. I was up late last night getting things moved, so…"

John took his shoes off and stood up to pull his shirt off.

"You are so easy," Rodney told him, laughing, but he took his shirt off, too.

Getting rid of his pants was easy, John just had to take off his makeshift belt and let them slide off, and Rodney pulled the bedclothes down and tipped him backward. It was all good, and even if he was a little too emotional and way too shaky, Rodney was all warm skin and solid muscle and bone, and steady heartbeat under his ear. "Man, I missed this."

"Me, too." Very softly, and then, more typically Rodney tone. "And after a little nap, I'll show you what else I've missed."

John smiled. "Cool." He was tired of little naps, but hell, this once, given that he had what he wanted, he could go with it.

Rodney's heartbeat followed him into sleep. Rodney's voice led him back out, but it was coming from the next room.

John sat up to see that the angle of the sun had changed from late morning to late afternoon and scowled. There were other voices out there, too, and he thought one was Zelenka's. Feeling a lot like a kid unfairly deprived of a treat, he pulled on his pants and shirt and padded out barefoot to find he'd been right, Zelenka was there, and Kavanaugh.

Zelenka saw him first, beamed at him. "Major, how good to see you well."

Rodney, who was sitting on what John supposed was meant to be an Ancient/Terran hybrid sofa, turned to see him, and the affection in his expression undid the grumpiness building.

"Hi," he said and stepped forward to let Zelenka clasp his hand briefly. "Thanks, it's good to be well." Kavanaugh was staring at him. "Hi, Kavanaugh."

"Ah, um, Major. You really have made an incredible recovery." Kavanaugh sounded almost embarrassed. "I just, I wouldn't have believed it, you look great. I mean, I saw you when they brought you in."

"Kavanaugh," Rodney snapped.

Kavanaugh flashed him an apologetic look. "Sorry. I just, uh, sorry."

Okay, that was awkward, John decided. "Do we have anything to eat here, or do I have to go to the mess?"

"No, actually we have sort of a—here, Kavanaugh, don't touch the keyboard." Rodney got up and came around the putative sofa to stand near what looked like an Ancient cabinet. "Top is cold stuff, bottom is cupboard stuff. How do you feel on the subject of ice cream?"

"Like I could eat some." John leaned sideways as Rodney opened the bottom door. "Oh, my God, is that popcorn?"

"Yes." Rodney grinned. "But that's for football viewing." He closed the bottom door and opened the top. "Ice cream up here, sliced turkey for sandwiches, cheese and bread here."

Very cool, a sort of refrigerator freezer division, and that was a nice change from having to hike to the mess. "Oh, man, a turkey sandwich."

"Knock yourself out, and no, I don't mean that literally," Rodney told him and briefly clasped his arm. "Oh, we actually have crackers and potato chips, too. Behind the soup and the popcorn."

"Potato chips," he said reverently. "You don't realize how necessary junk food is until you've gone without." He heard Kavanaugh chuckle, and turned to grin at him.

Maybe Kavanaugh wasn't so bad; any man who understood about junk food had to have some good in his character.

Another pat on his shoulder and Rodney went back to whatever discussion John had interrupted. He made himself a lovely sandwich with two layers of turkey and one of cheese and spicy mustard, and my God, Rodney must have called in every favor point either of them owned to get this stuff from the mess. Probably because he was supposed to be convalescing, he imagined, but what the hell.

There were even cold bottles of water. A beer would have been nice, but since he doubted anyone would let him have one, it was probably just as well.

The potato chip bag was sort of mind-boggling. Good old Ruffles potato chips, and wasn't that a mind bender after all this time in Pegasus, where the only time they saw brand names, they were not only not in familiar shapes and colors, they weren't in any Terran language. He took the bag, a bottle of water, and his sandwich, meandered back around to the far end of the sofa, where he curled into the cushions and regarded the three scientists with some degree of curiosity. "What are you guys working on?"

"Power," Kavanaugh told him, smiling a little. "Naturally. What else do we worry about here?"

"Well, there's the Wraith and mysterious illnesses and energy sucking creatures of darkness," John offered.

"Power," Rodney said, and he was clearly trying not to laugh.

"Okay." He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly, savoring the tastes of home. One thing he had to admit; he'd pass on the whole two missing months thing, but convalescence had the whole feeding up the patient thing going for it. Smoked turkey, not just turkey, and if that wasn't Colby cheese, he'd eat his shoes, and it tasted amazing. In fact, he was enjoying it so much that he failed to notice he had an audience until he was licking the last little trace of mustard from his thumb and glanced up to see Kavanaugh frankly staring at him, Zelenka apparently trying not to, and Rodney looking at him with one raised eyebrow.

"What?" He turned his head to check behind, then looked back at Rodney.

"Would you like us to leave you alone with the food?" Rodney asked drily.

Kavanaugh went scarlet and stood up hastily. " I just remembered, I've got to check an analysis I was running."

Zelenka practically followed him to the door. "Yes, yes, I'll help you with that."

He looked at Rodney, bewildered. "What?"

Rodney rolled his eyes and followed his colleagues to the door to speak quietly.

He tilted his head, trying to eavesdrop, but couldn't hear a thing. When Rodney came back to sit next to him, he scowled. "What was that about?"

Rodney's expression was equal parts amusement, embarrassment, and smugness. "Oh, that was just Kavanaugh telling me now he understands what I see in you."

Irritated, John shook his head. "What was that about?"

"You were just enjoying that sandwich a lot," Rodney said and grinned outright. "I guess you didn't notice, unless you were deliberately trying to drive them out."

"I was eating," John said, aggrieved.

"You were practically pornographic in your enjoyment," Rodney told him and put the potato chips safely off the couch. "Even without making a sound. They don't even know how focused you can get and they noticed it." The water bottle followed.

John was glad he'd finished his sandwich, it was beginning to look a lot like he was finally going to get lucky.

Rodney reached for his waistband and unfastened his pants. "And since I do know how focused you are during sex, I'm not complaining that it drove them off. As far as I know, Kavanaugh's strictly heterosexual, too, and I bet he's going to take himself in hand the minute he's alone." Rodney's expression was mischievous.

"I think you're all nuts," John said mildly, "But please take note, that was not a complaint. No, no, no complaint here," he added, as Rodney pulled his pants and his underwear down and off. "You're just a take charge kinda guy, I like that about you."

"I know," Rodney said smugly and took hold of his cock, which was showing definite interest in the proceedings. "It's what I count on."

He gasped when Rodney's mouth closed over him, gasped and slid obligingly down and oh, fuck, Rodney's mouth and tongue and lips and Jesus, how could he forget this sensation? Head injury, that was all there was to it, and maybe that was good, it was like the first time ever, and the first time he'd gotten a blow job and the first time with Rodney all wrapped up into one aching, heated, incredible moment, and John didn't want to grab Rodney's hair, but he held on to Rodney's shoulder with one hand and the cushion next to him with the other, and oh, fuck, he was coming in long, intense pulses, fucking Rodney's mouth without much finesse and shaking like a leaf…

And then he was still shaking, but not in a bad way, and Rodney was nuzzling him, gentling him through the aftershocks until he could see again. "Oh, jeez, Rodney." Weakly.

A kiss on John's stomach and then on his mouth, and he could taste himself, which gave him a residual throb. Rodney was hard, and he put his palm against the bulge, pressed gently. "Let me," he breathed and sucked on Rodney's lower lip. He fumbled with Rodney's pants, slid his hand inside, and Rodney felt so fucking good in his hand, hot and thick and heavy. He stroked and licked his way back into Rodney's mouth, matched Rodney's rhythm until Rodney gasped into his mouth and wet heat spilled over his fingers.

John gentled his grip, slowed, and Rodney groaned, rested his forehead against John's for a moment, kissed him.

He hooked one leg around Rodney's and they sank against the cushions together. "Now, this is better than a turkey sandwich."

"What a romantic you are," Rodney murmured and slid a hand under his shirt so there was a big, warm palm just above his navel.

John felt like purring, nuzzled Rodney's throat happily. "Mmm, backatcha." Rodney nuzzled back, shifted them both with shocking ease so John ended up on top of him, between Rodney's legs. "Jesus, either you've been working out or I need to eat faster."

"You lost about ten kilos, John." But Rodney smiled anyway. "And I told you, you've been eating your weight lately, Carson says you've gained nearly four back already."

He did the rapid calc, grinned. "That's not even one tenth of my weight, Rodney, you exaggerator, you."

"That's what you've gained, not what you've eaten," Rodney told him. "You're still too damned thin, but you're looking better by the day."

"So you're stuck with me, huh?"

"My life is full of these burdens. Fortunately, I'm strong enough to carry them."

John bit Rodney's chin, tucked his face into Rodney's neck. "I think I need another nap."

Rodney's fingers ruffled the short hair at the back of his neck. "And fortunately, you did lose about ten kilos."

"Of which I've gained nearly half back," John murmured and shifted to get comfortable."

"Yes, I had noticed that and no, you are not taking a nap on me for several reasons. One, you have no pants on."

"That's not my fault, you took them off."

"Two, the cushions have shifted and I've got furniture digging into my back. Three, I've got a bit of a mess here, and you're grinding it in."

"But I'm comfortable." John nuzzled again.

Rodney sighed and smacked him on the ass. "Up."

"Bastard," John grumbled, but slid back anyway and sat up, one leg folded under him and the other foot on the floor.

Rodney sat up and kissed his mouth, took his hand. "Come on, if you're going to go all post-coital, I'd rather do it somewhere more comfortable."

Pleased, he let himself be tugged up and back into the bedroom. "Shouldn't we check out the other view?"

"Tomorrow." Rodney took of his shirt, shucked his pants and got back into bed."

Even more pleased, John got rid of his own shirt and slid into bed against Rodney. "This is the life."

"Well, you know, I live to serve."

"I didn't know that. It's good to know." Rodney pulled the blankets over both of them and John let himself relax. "Do we have any good DVDs?"

"I'll check." Rodney was rubbing his back, right between his shoulder blades, and he'd forgotten just how good that felt. "After we have a nap."

"But you don't get sleepy after daytime sex, you get energized. Like the bunny." John didn't care, though, he wasn't moving. For good measure, he wrapped an arm and a leg over Rodney.

"Well, I've been working a great deal of overtime the last few months, I'm tired." Rodney kept rubbing his back. "And, if I'm going to nap, I think I'm perfectly justified in wanting to nap where I can keep you out of trouble."

"I don't get into trouble." Well, strictly speaking, John supposed the last few months counted as trouble, although he hadn't thought of it until he'd opened his mouth. Fortunately, Rodney kindly allowed him that small error and just kept rubbing his back. "But I am getting tired of falling asleep every time I get off the treadmill or, in this case, have some really nice sex."

"It was really nice," Rodney agreed softly and kept rubbing his back.

"You're trying to hypnotize me, aren't you," John asked blurrily.

"Why, yes, I am. Is it working?" Rodney sounded amused.

John's eyes closed. "Yes," he agreed and sleep wrapped him up and pulled him under…again.


	5. Chapter 5

Sleeping, eating, working on the treadmill and having sex: that seemed to be sum total of what John was up to these days, and while he knew that was one hell of an improvement over spending more than two months in a coma, it was still feeling a little restrictive.

Beckett insisted on checking him over every couple of days, with one day spent enduring every damn neurological test and scan with Ancient devices that Beckett could devise.

The day after that, John was feeling slightly rebellious and skated out into the city when Rodney was at the lab. He wasn't a complete idiot, he kept a low profile and was pleasantly surprised to run into Halling, who greeted him with amazement.

"Major, I had not expected to see you." Halling clasped both his hands briefly. "Teyla has told us that you were recovering, but she said you were still under medical restriction."

"Don't tell anybody you saw me. I was going stir crazy in my quarters, I thought I'd visit some of my guys, see how things were going. Nobody tells me anything these days, I have no idea what's going on. So how are you getting along with the new people?"

Halling smiled faintly. "They seem well enough, I suppose. They are a bit distant with us, but then, I think they have yet to come to know us. Some of your people were also so in the early days."

"So what are you up to today?"

"Delivering trade goods in exchange for the medical care Dr. Beckett provided us this spring when the fevers came." Halling gestured. "I will walk with you, if you like."

"Any of that honey stuff you guys make?" John perked up a little. "I like that."

"Oh, the meathla," Halling said and chuckled. "I think I can put a few bottles aside for you and Dr. McKay, Major."

John glanced at Halling, flushed a little in something that was a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment both. Well, he was a child of his culture, not Halling's, so he figured the embarrassment was pretty normal, but the pleasure, now that was cool, Halling including Rodney in an off-handed, understated way. "That would be really great, Halling."

"Ah, here is Teyla. Where Teyla is, Aiden will not be far behind." Halling raised a hand as Teyla saw them on her way into the rec area and stopped.

"Cool." John grinned at Teyla's expression when they reached her. "Hey, how are things?"

"Are you supposed to be out in the city?" she asked and gave him what he privately called her 'leader of the people' look.

"Eh, probably not, but I've got cabin fever." She arched an eyebrow, but Halling was puzzled. "It means I'm going crazy from boredom."

"Ah," Halling said and had to work hard not to smile.

"I do not think Dr. Beckett will agree that going crazy with boredom is a good reason to flout his restrictions," Teyla said.

"Thanks, Mom," John said and continued on into the rec area. "I just wanted to say hey to some of the guys."

Ford stopped him before he got very far. "Major," he said, grinning. "What the hell are you doing here? No, you do not want to go in there, some of Beckett's med-techs are in there, you better come on this way to the ready room."

Teyla gave Ford an odd look, but nodded. "I agree. Unless, of course, you wish to be confined to the infirmary again."

John promptly took Ford's advice and went back out before anyone saw him. "I just wanted to see some of the guys. You off duty?"

"Yeah, we have a day of down time." Ford guided him down the hall and took a right turn. "Here we are. I bet some of the guys are here, too."

"Even better." John looked over his shoulder to see Teyla talking quietly with Halling. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, you bet." Ford opened the door and sure enough, there sat Markham and Stackhouse and Bates, all of whom gaped, grinned, and leapt to attention.

"Guys, I'm not even in uniform, at ease." But he was pleased. They'd come a long way since the early days, when he and Bates ended up snarling at each other more often than not. "It's good to see you all." He looked around the room. "Since when did we get a ready room?"

"It was Dr. Weir's idea," Ford said. "Hey, they letting you have coffee yet?"

John held up his hand, thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "This much. But if you're offering, I'll take some."

Stackhouse jumped up. "You've got it, sir."

Bates grinned. "You're looking pretty damn good, Major. When do they let you get back to work?"

"Soon, I hope. Dr. Beckett's being excruciatingly cautious." John took a chair, turned it and rested his chin on the back. "So how are things? The new guys working out okay?"

Bates looked at Ford, who looked at Markham, who gave Stackhouse a look. "They're settling in pretty well," Bates said, his tone neutral.

It weirded him out a little. "No trouble?"

"Not a bit," Ford said seriously. "Everything's smooth."

"Cool." John looked around. "So does Colonel Borden ever come in?"

"Not really, sir. He's got his own office." Ford looked at Markham again.

"They brought lots of luxuries, sir. Or stuff that sort of became luxuries." Markham's grin seemed a little off. "Like chocolate."

Ford chuckled. "Hey, Markham, break out some chocolate for the Major. Doc's got him eating nutritious stuff."

Stackhouse returned with a cup of coffee. "Black, right?"

"Thanks, Stackhouse, yeah, black is good." John sipped at it, tried to decide why things felt weird. These were his guys, they'd been on missions with him, they'd fought the Wraith with him, and things just didn't feel quite right. Maybe it was just that whole nearly getting killed by the alleged good guys that was bothering him. "So what else is new?"

Markham unearthed a box and peeled out a chocolate bar. "There you go, sir. If you don't eat it, you've got ready made trade goods." This time the grin was more genuine.

"Thanks." John looked around. "The new personnel? Anything else new?"

Ford shrugged. "Lots of scientists, seems like. Lots of supplies, more equipment, more DVDs." He grinned again. "Kind of a library of 'em, in fact. I'll bring some by your quarters, I figure by this time, you've gotta be going stir crazy."

"You've got that right," John agreed and sipped at the coffee. "Man, this is good."

The gate alarm went off and everybody scrambled. John found a place for the cup and tried to grab a vest, but Ford took hold of his shoulder. "Sir, no. It'd be worth my head to let you go into a situation. Just stay here, please."

His temper flared. "The hell."

Ford looked like he wanted to punch him, and Teyla opened the door to see it. "Major, come," she said and glanced at Ford.

Ford shoved John and he didn't seem to have a choice. "Goddammit, I can still carry a weapon!"

"Take him," Ford yelled at Teyla and then the four of them barreled past him.

Teyla took his arm in a rather painful grip. "This way," she told him harshly and tugged at him.

Furious, John broke free. "The hell. I might be underweight, but I'm in one piece and I can still do my job."

"No one has said that you cannot," Teyla told him fiercely. "And you are not ready to go into battle if you will only think clearly about it."

That hurt. A lot. Still furious, John strode past her into the corridor and headed toward the control room. Elizabeth stood there and when she saw him, her expression was definitely less than pleased. "John, what are you doing here?"

"I'm not a goddamn invalid," he snapped. "Maybe I'm not fit to do my job yet, but I'm not totally useless."

Elizabeth looked briefly appalled before she looked back at the stranger sitting at the console. "Martin?"

"It's the SGC, ma'am."

Whoa. He turned his head, saw Borden approaching. "Here comes the Colonel."

"Dammit." Elizabeth looked truly furious. "Have we got radio contact with them?"

"Putting them on now, ma'am."

There was a crackle like static. "Dr. Weir, this is General O'Neill."

Borden stopped where he was, about a yard away. Given Elizabeth's temper, John didn't blame him.

"Yes, General," Elizabeth said, and despite her temper, her voice was cool. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I'd like to pay you a visit, if you don't mind. And bring a couple of people with me. You know Dr. Jackson and Colonel Carter, I think, and I believe you've met Teal'c."

"Just the four of you?" Elizabeth asked and flicked a look at Borden.

"Yeah, I'm feelin' a little nostalgic for the SG-1 days, so I'm letting 'em tag along."

Borden looked amused.

"Very well, General. I'll lower the shield." She nodded at Martin and touched the console. "Ford, stay alert. And collect their weapons when they get here."

John stared at her. "Uh, Elizabeth, this guy is sort of our boss, isn't he?"

Elizabeth spared him a narrow glance. "John, stand back and shut up. I don't have time to explain things to you, and I wouldn't have to if you were doing what you were told."

Her expression didn't brook any argument, but he couldn't help himself. "Elizabeth, these are our people coming through, what the hell are you doing?"

"John." She looked at him. "If I call Carson up here, I'll have him sedate you, but I cannot take the time to catch you up."

The unfairness of it took John's breath away. "And whose fault is that? I've been awake for almost three weeks now, and everybody's been keeping me in the dark!"

"Call Dr. Beckett to the control room," Elizabeth told Martin while holding John's gaze.

John shut his mouth and glared back at her.

"Dr. Weir," Borden said, "Don't cross any lines you can't afford to cross here."

She didn't even look Borden's way. "Colonel Borden, if you open your mouth again, I will have you removed from the control room."

Holy shit. John spared a look for Borden, but evidently this was old hat, Borden didn't even look ruffled. Appalled, he looked at the gate, saw the shield come down, sat the first tall, familiar figure come through. O'Neill stopped, looked up, and smiled sunnily at Elizabeth.

"Dr. Weir, good to see you again."

Three more people came after O'Neill. The only one John remembered was Dr. Jackson, memorable from his visit to the Ancients' post in Antarctica. Teal'c had to be the big guy with the weird tattoo, he supposed, because the woman was the colonel. He glanced back at Borden, who was a helluva lot calmer than he was.

Thankfully, none of them were armed, which eliminated that potential for disaster and courts martial. John was relieved about that, and O'Neill seemed genuinely unruffled as Ford led his party to the stairs.

He couldn't decide if he should come to attention or not. He wasn't in uniform, but fuck, this situation was way out of hand and getting weirder by the minute. Borden saluted O'Neill and greeted the woman.

Jackson looked past Elizabeth and nodded at John.

Oddly, that freaked John out as badly as anything else. It had been more than a year and Jackson remembered him, a man he'd met once. "Elizabeth?" he whispered.

"Shut up, John." It was a whisper, too, but it was pretty emphatic.

John shut up.

O'Neill came to stand in front of Elizabeth, smiled disarmingly. "Dr. Weir. Seriously, good to see you again." His eyes moved to John. "Major."

"Sir." John was feeling a little light-headed, maybe; the lights in the control room seemed a little too bright. "Good to see you again, sir."

"It's good to see you alive at all, Major." O'Neill's tone was uninformative. "Last I heard, you were in a coma."

"Three weeks, sir. I woke up about three weeks ago." Elizabeth turned and looked at him and he shut up again.

O'Neill glanced at Borden, who nodded fractionally. "Well, that's very good news. Dr. Weir, I wonder if you and I and Major Sheppard could sit down and talk for a bit."

"That would depend, General, on what it is you'd like to talk about."

O'Neill glanced back at his team, and Jackson came forward. "Elizabeth, I understand you've been dealing with incredible pressures, but isn't there some way to cut to the heart of this situation?"

"Daniel, one of my people was nearly murdered by the last group of people the General sent to take over this base. No one back on Earth seems interested in pursuing justice for that crime, and no one on Earth seems interested in understanding that this has, in essence, become a colony, not a military base. How do you propose we cut through to the heart of the situation?"

Jackson looked at O'Neill. "Well, actually, I don't know, that's why I was asking you."

Elizabeth folded her arms. "I'm afraid I'm fresh out of ideas."

The light was killing John's eyes. He averted his head slightly to reduce the glare and felt sharp pain lance the base of his skull.

O'Neill sighed. "Which is why we came for a visit, Dr. Weir. Obviously, Everett was something of a mistake. I didn't assign him, the Pentagon assigned him. I've made it clear to them that Everett was a mistake, and General Hammond has made it doubly clear just in case they missed my point. Now, the Major looks like he's about to fall down, so why don't we adjourn to your office, or maybe you've got a briefing room?"

Elizabeth looked back at John; he caught her movement from his peripheral vision. "John?"

"It's just a headache," John said, and the effort of speaking made the pain worse. He closed his eyes, which helped marginally.

"Martin, call for Dr. Beckett." He felt her fingers on his arm. "Come on, John, let's go up to the briefing room."

John squinted. "I can walk."

"I'm sure you can." But Elizabeth didn't let go of his arm.

O'Neill stood aside and let her lead, followed them up the stairs.

The briefing room was blessedly dark. John found a chair and slumped into it, holding his head in his hands, one hand pressed to the back.

Elizabeth stood in the doorway, and he could hear low voices, urgent tones, and then Beckett was crouched beside him. "Can you pull your arm out of the sleeve, lad?"

Oh. He remembered this, managed with Beckett's help to get his shirt half off and braced his arm for the injection. He put his head on the table until he could feel his body react to it, until the crushing pain in his head began to ease. "Oh, that's better." Blurrily. "Sorry, Doc, I was going stir crazy, I didn't know all hell was going to break loose, I just wanted to say hi to the guys."

"Aye, well, we'll let it go this time, John, but next time, I'm going to have to haul you in." Despite his words, Beckett sounded a little amused as he helped John get his shirt arranged again.

"Thanks." John could hold his neck straight again, sort of, even if he didn't feel up to any sudden movements.

"Carson?" Elizabeth had come in.

"Give him another minute or so, but I think you can bring the lights up just a bit." Beckett moved to a chair. "But if you don't mind, I'll be staying just in case."

John squinted at Elizabeth. "Sorry."

Elizabeth shook her head, went to the table, and touched the light control. "Come in, General."

O'Neill came in, surveyed the room. "This looks oddly normal," he said and glanced at John. "Major?"

John started to rise, but his head warned him against it. "Sorry, sir."

O'Neill stood near Elizabeth. "So this is injury related?"

John squinted, saw that he was addressing Beckett.

"It is. I've been running tests, and I think we can mend matters a bit, but he may have them for the rest of his life." Beckett's tone was cool.

"His neck," Elizabeth said stonily, "Was broken."

John's head came up almost painfully. "My what?"

O'Neill's expression was curious. "He, ah, didn't know?"

"No, and if he hadn't been out of his quarters today, it's likely we wouldn't have told him yet." Elizabeth gestured. "Have a chair, General."

O'Neill was still looking at him. "Does he remember anything?"

John was sitting right in front of them and they were talking about him in the third person. "Pain," John said hoarsely. "That's all I've remembered. A lot of pain and hearing my own bones break."

O'Neill's mouth flattened out and he looked at Elizabeth briefly. "Major, the men who attacked you have pleaded guilty."

"General," John said steadily, "I don't give a damn."

O'Neill nodded. "But there are issues involved that I wanted to discuss privately with you, and given that Dr. Weir has a certain amount of distrust of us since Colonel Everett acted like a Latin American dictator, I'm hoping she'll allow that."

John frowned, glanced at Elizabeth, who had turned to ice. "Why wouldn't she?" He had a feeling he knew what this was about, he had a feeling he'd known from the moment he woke up.

"General, this discussion will wait." Elizabeth looked at Beckett. "Carson, shouldn't John be in the infirmary."

John started to rise again, had to put his hand to the back of his head. "Elizabeth, just don't. I'm okay."

"No, you are not." Elizabeth was flushed. "General, come with me, I have something to show you."

"Dr. Weir," O'Neill said quietly. "This is not about you. This concerns Major Sheppard, and Major Sheppard is an Air Force office and at the moment, I'm the ranking officer on this base."

Elizabeth was incandescently furious, but her voice didn't rise. "This is not a military base, General, and John Sheppard is no longer an Air Force officer."

O'Neill looked at him. "Excuse me?"

John thought he was going to be sick. "Elizabeth, please."

"He resigned his commission nearly nine months ago. He's no longer the concern of the Air Force, he's a member of this colony, and one of this colony's military officers."

John had to admire her, even as he saw O'Neill's expression shift.

O'Neill's voice was still polite, though, when he spoke even if his choice was words wasn't. "Dr. Weir, forgive me, but are you completely whacked?"

Oh, fuck, there was going to be more yelling, and another stabbing pain at the back of John's head made him worry he really was going to be sick. "I've gotta get out of here, sorry, sorry." He made it to his feet, found Beckett was supporting him in place. "They're making me sick," he said nonsensically. "My head's going to explode."

Somebody was shouting nearby, and John was pretty sure it wasn't Beckett. No, Beckett was helping him get down the stairs, and everything had a strange halo around it, and then he was lying back on a gurney and Beckett had put something over his eyes to shield them from the light. He kept holding the back of his head until the gurney stopped.

He was back in the infirmary, he knew it, and right at the moment, he didn't much care. Somebody put a cold pack on the back of his head and neck. It wasn't great, but it helped, and Beckett leaned over him, touched his face. "John, we need to wait about an hour before I can give you another dose. I want you to take a muscle relaxant, see if that helps at all."

If John breathed through his mouth, he felt less nauseated. "Okay," he managed and when they helped him move to the bed, the nurse gave him a pill and a glass of water. He got the pill down and folded himself into the infirmary bed, sighed in relief when they put more cold packs at the base of his skull. The muscle relaxant made him drowsy, and the ice tamped down the headache enough that he eventually drifted a little, rousing only when Beckett came to give him the second injection.

"All right, let's see if that does the trick." Beckett sat down beside the bed and patted his leg.

John lay still and breathed through his mouth for a while, and then, God, then it was okay, even though his skull felt almost bruised. "Oh, wow, that's good stuff, Doc."

"Well, we'll have to keep you out of conference rooms where Elizabeth's arguing with Generals." Beckett's expression was kind. "I believe I know what's causing this, John, and I think we can alleviate it, but you may be stuck with a tendency to these headaches for the rest of your life. You took a lot of damage, both to your skull and the cervical vertebrae, and if it hadna been for Rodney's research and the both of us having the gene, you'd have bloody well died."

He didn't dare nod. "Yeah, I get that. Lucky to be alive and all that."

"At least with that Wraith beastie, I knew I could get your heart restarted."

John shifted on the bed, sat up carefully. "That is some really good stuff." He looked at Beckett. "Maybe you should just give me all the information now so nobody can fucking blindside me again."

Beckett studied him. "I think we should wait. At least until you've had a good night's rest."

 

John considered the sense of that. "I need to talk to General O'Neill."

"Not today you don't. I can't give you another dose for 24 hours, lad."

John frowned. "You think that's what started the headache."

Beckett held up a hand. "I think that entire scene made you tense, and because we walk upright, tension makes the neck muscles tighten, and because you've had some serious injuries to the cervical vertebrae that I had to use Ancient technology to repair—and I don't mind telling you, John, I was bloody well out of my mind with fear that I was going to leave you paralyzed from the neck down—that tightening of the muscles affects blood vessels that feed the brain and for some people, that triggers a headache that is virtually indistinguishable from classic migraine and which responds to treatment as if it were a classic migraine."

John considered that for a moment. "Well, that sucks."

Beckett's mouth quirked. "Aye, that it does, but I count it quite a victory that you woke up in your right mind, all your limbs working and with only two months lost."

John rubbed his forehead. "There is that," he agreed. "So, am I stuck here?"

"It might be best." Beckett studied him. "Will you give me your word to stay in your quarters?"

He was tired and still wobbly from the pill. He nodded. "You've got it."

"Carson?" Rodney's voice, tight with worry.

John turned his head carefully, managed a smile. "Headache, I'm okay now. Doc says I can go home."

Rodney came in. "Are you sure, Carson?"

"I think he'll be fine, and I can't give him anything more for 24 hours, so he may as well be comfortable." Beckett helped John stand, patted his shoulder. "Keep Elizabeth away from him."

Rodney raised his eyebrows. "Elizabeth?"

"General O'Neill arrived from Earth. She's having a summit with him, but it started out as a summit with John and Elizabeth and O'Neill."

"Oh, great." Rodney was pissed.

John felt a wave of affection for that protective pissiness. "Hey, genius, I'm tough, I can handle everything but this fucking migraine thing."

Rodney took his arm. "Come on, flyboy, and I'll get you something to eat. You've been sneaking the caffeine again, haven't you? I told you that was not such a good thing with migraines."

John glanced back at Beckett. At the moment, he was just grateful that Beckett didn't rat him out, but then maybe Beckett didn't realize he'd been on walkabout when O'Neill arrived. Either way, he had enough trouble on his plate without having domestic issues, so he was just going to let Rodney exist happily in the illusion that he'd been hauled in forcibly to talk to O'Neill.

Right now, he had to figure out what in the hell Elizabeth was thinking with this colony shit, and determine how in the hell they could play the resignation card if Elizabeth was serious with the colony shit, and whether or not he should just go with the flow. "Elizabeth is seceding from Earth," he told Rodney, once he was stretched out on their make-shift sofa. "Did you know that?"

Rodney brought him a sandwich. "Try and eat that," he told John and sat down on the table next to the sofa. "And yes, yes, of course I did."

That shouldn't have surprised John, but it did. "You guys have been deliberately keeping stuff from me," he complained.

"Yes, we have." Rodney watched him take a bite. "Frankly, it wasn't my idea, it was Carson's. He was justifiably worried that if you found out what was going on, you'd throw yourself, so to speak, on the grenade."

"We can't secede from Earth." John took another bite. "Rodney, how can we secede from Earth?"

"How can you ask me that?" Rodney seemed almost wearily amused. "You're the American, I'm a Canadian. Canada remained a part of the British Empire when those brash colonists broke away."

"The colonies—" John stared at Rodney. "Rodney, the colonies were established when they rebelled. They had natural resources, they'd been established for, jeez, more than one hundred years?"

"This is the post-modern world, things move more quickly." Rodney shrugged. "But consider this. The SGC sent an international expedition through to Atlantis. And then the Pentagon got involved and sent a military force through to take it over. John, Elizabeth is a woman of strong convictions, and the nature of this expedition is such that we all agree that one country should not be in control of the city or the artifacts."

John felt a warning throb at the back of his neck, slid down to rest his head on the cushion. "This is…" Words failed him.

"Eat," Rodney said kindly. "The last thing you need is to have that migraine hit again." He moved to the couch, took John's feet into his lap and removed his shoes and socks.

John felt compelled to point out that his feet were fine.

"Eat," Rodney said and now he was amused. "Then I'll rub your neck."

John supposed that meant he had a short attention span, because he happily shoved political issues into the back of his mind and focused on smoked turkey, cheese and mustard instead.


	6. Chapter 6

True to his word, Rodney massaged his neck and massaged it so nicely and well that John dozed off under the combined influence of big, deft hands and the tag end of the muscle relaxant Beckett had given him. He woke to hear Rodney talking to some woman whose voice he didn't recognize and sat up to peer over the back of the sofa to see the colonel who had come with O'Neill standing in the open door to their quarters, speaking earnestly and softly to Rodney.

"I'm sorry, this isn't a good time," Rodney was saying.

"Hey," John said, and maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to do, bringing her attention to him, but fuck, he was already pretty damn sure that's what O'Neill wanted to talk to him about. Besides which, Elizabeth had already drawn the line in the sand, so the hell with it.

"Hey," the colonel said and smiled at him.

She was drop-dead gorgeous with that smile, and she was tall and John suddenly flashed on comments of Rodney's he'd dismissed ages ago. "You must be Colonel Carter," he said.

Rodney looked at him, and his expression was resigned. "Colonel Samantha Carter, Major John Sheppard. Come in, then."

She did, but she kept giving John these little sidelong glances. "So how are you?" she asked Rodney.

Samantha Carter. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he watched her a little jealously.

"Fine, fine," Rodney told her, clearly uncomfortable. "And you? Congratulations on the promotion, by the way."

"Great, thanks. I'm, uh, getting married next year."

"Really? Congratulations again." Rodney gestured at a chair. "Please, take a seat."

"Thanks." She sat, looked at John. "Ah, you're feeling better?"

"Yeah, thanks." His voice was rusty. He glanced back at Rodney, who came around the end of the sofa and sat at the far end. "Why don't I let you two talk," he said, and got up. "I'll, uh," he looked at Rodney, pointed in the direction of his bedroom.

Rodney nodded without looking at him, and he really was being an asshole, he felt that green-eyed monster grab hold of him by the throat and really, really, really didn't want to leave.

But because he wasn't a kid and knew he was being an asshole, he left anyway, and closed his bedroom door to spite his own childishness. He had a book, he could read while they discussed whatever they had to discuss, and he was really hoping it wasn't anything personal, but he was damned if he was going to try and find out. So he found his book—thankfully not War and Peace—and managed to actually read a little before he realized that he'd read the same page three times and that he couldn't hear any voices from the next room.

Sure enough, when he came out of his bedroom, there was nobody there. He told himself to stop being a jerk, but he was upset, and if he let himself stay upset, he was going to end up flattened with that fucking headache again, so he took a long, hot shower.

By the time John emerged from the shower, Rodney had re-appeared and was sprawled on the bed, reading John's book. He looked up when John stood at the foot of the bed and arched one eyebrow. "How's the head?"

John shrugged irritably. "It's okay. How's Samantha Carter?"

Rodney's mouth quirked. "She's fine. She seems to think she's a diplomat these days, she wants me to talk to Elizabeth."

"Oh." John sat down on the foot of the bed. "About the whole seceding from Earth thing."

"Exactly." Rodney nudged him with one foot. "Come on up."

John looked at Rodney. "I'm not tired," he told him and got up, took his book from Rodney's hand and went back to the living room.

After a moment, Rodney came out and sat on the table beside the sofa, his expression amused. "You're being an idiot."

John scowled. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, right." Rodney took the book out of his hands and put it on the table. "You're not at all irritated because I went off with Colonel Carter to talk."

John continued scowling. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, yes, you are." Rodney laughed softly. "You are being an idiot, you idiot. Even if you're completely unaware of how I feel about you, did you miss the part about her upcoming nuptials?"

John didn't need to be reminded he was being ridiculous. He glowered and reached for his book again, but Rodney intercepted by taking hold of his wrist. "Hey!"

"Scoot over here, you idiot."

And of course, now John felt really, really stupid. He glowered again, but sat up. "I'm not irritated because you went off with her."

"Of course not," Rodney said, straight-faced and slid behind him. "I told you, that cute and dumb thing doesn't fool me in the least." When Rodney tugged him down, John planted an elbow just hard enough to make Rodney huff. Unfortunately, Rodney found that funny, too. "I'm sorry, I'm actually tremendously flattered, but believe me, you've got nothing to worry about."

"I know that." John put his head back on Rodney's shoulder, despite his annoyance.

"Good." Rodney put his hand under John's shirt. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me why you were in the ready room?"

Well, fuck, sideswiped. "I needed to get out, I went by to say hey to Ford and Teyla. Who ratted me out?"

Rodney chuckled. "Halling. He gave me some of that home brew, said you'd mentioned liking it."

John sighed. "Busted."

"Indeed, you are." Rodney's arm around him tightened. "I know it's not quite back to normal, not given the political crap, but it's getting closer."

John sighed again. "It won't be really normal until I can get in a jumper again."

Rodney made a noncommittal sound. "Ford said he'd be by later with some DVDs to amuse."

He'd forgotten about that. "Dammit, everybody saw Beckett roll me out on that gurney."

"I told you, pride goes before a fall." Rodney squeezed him again, belying the words. "Colonel Carter also wanted to send General O'Neill over to talk to you, but I told her you were under doctor's orders to speak to neither Elizabeth or O'Neill."

John's stomach knotted up a little. "Did Elizabeth tell you, I'm no longer a member of the US Air Force, I'm a member of the Atlantis Air Force. Assuming I let this pass, anyway."

"What?" Rodney's tone was startled. "Oh, she used the letter."

"Yeah. Sort of." John brooded about that. "I know I wrote it for something like this, but I didn't expect she was going to have me declaring some other citizenship at the same time."

"Something like this—you think O'Neill has gotten information about our relationship?" Rodney's voice was thoughtful.

"Why the hell else would he want to talk with me privately? If it was about this colony business, he wouldn't bother, he'd just bark some orders at me."

Rodney's thumb stroked over his skin, just above his navel. Jesus, he was totally nuts, he found that calming. "It's pointless to worry about it," Rodney murmured. "Besides which, he can't make you leave Atlantis."

Oddly, that observation made John feel better. "That's true, he can't."

"So there's no need to worry about it, then."

John considered that. "This is really scaring me. You're the voice of reason and I'm the voice of doom. When did that happen?"

Rodney didn't laugh. "I think," he said softly in John's ear, "That maybe it seems like that because I've already seen the worst thing, aside from getting myself killed, that I could ever fear."

Now John had a lump in his throat the size of a bowling ball. He put a hand over Rodney's. "Hey, I'm still here, still complaining. No need to worry about it."

Rodney squeezed again. "Also true. Just remember, I'm the neurotic in this relationship, you're the pretty one."

John couldn't help laughing. "I dunno, Rodney, I kinda think you're the pretty one."

"Which proves nothing except that you're not neurotic, you're delusional." Rodney kissed the curve of John's ear. "In addition to intoxicants, I brought back some dinner from the mess. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to eat it while it's still hot."

John couldn't argue with that, and even if Rodney had been right, he'd been an idiot, he still felt pretty damn good. "So do I get to actually enjoy any of the intoxicants?"

"Absolutely." Rodney kissed his ear again. "Think of it as a kind of celebration."

"Of what?"

"Freedom."

The strange thing was, the more John thought about it, the more he agreed.

 

John wasn't sure quite what to expect from the following day, but Daniel Jackson started it off by stopping by their living quarters while John was still inhaling the steam from his mug of coffee.

Rodney, naturally, was already showered, shaved, dressed and wide awake, his laptop booted up and running a report on something he and Zelenka were working on.

Of course, morning sex had a weirdly energizing effect on Rodney, whereas it made John want to be languid and lazy and lie around, so he was lying around in a t-shirt and jeans on the sofa, sipping sleepily at coffee while Rodney explained the report to him at the usual ninety miles an hour with the full understanding that John would have no earthly clue what he was saying and absolutely no expectation that John could repeat any of it back.

John supposed it was slightly insane to think that he really was a lucky bastard, given the events of nearly three months ago, the Wraith, and migraines, but hey, he really was.

"Good morning," Jackson said to Rodney, "Ah, can I come in?"

Rodney looked perplexed, but nodded. "Certainly. Can I get you some coffee?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, that would be great." Jackson came in, looked at John. "Good morning."

"Good morning," John agreed and took another sip from his own mug. First Carter and now Jackson; his stomach did a nervous little maneuver, but hell, at least it wasn't the General. He found himself wondering if Rodney was right, if O'Neill and Jackson were more than just good friends.

He did *not* need to be wondering that at the moment.

Rodney poured another cup of coffee and handed it to Jackson. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, uh, actually, I came to talk with both of you." Jackson grimaced. "Sorry to intrude, but Sam told me that, ah, Major Sheppard was here."

Rodney's expression went blank and Rodney folded his arms. "I see. About what?"

Oops. John took another sip of coffee to hide the smile that wanted to form. Rodney pissed off was an artist at verbal fencing, he didn't care if Jackson was a linguist or not.

"Well," Jackson said, stretching the word out a little, "Since Elizabeth has more or less blockaded General O'Neill from talking with, ah, you, Major, I thought that perhaps the two of you might be interested in what's going on with the trials."

That wiped the smile off John's face completely. Dammit, Jackson was really killing his post-coital glow. He frowned at Jackson. "Courts martial."

"Right." Jackson grimaced ruefully, looked at Rodney. "Mind if I have a seat?"

Rodney shrugged fractionally. "John?"

"Go ahead." John was glad when Rodney chose to sit on the sofa nearby, even if he really didn't think he was going to freak out this time.

Jackson sat down and glanced at John, obviously feeling a little awkward. "You're feeling better today?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." John sat up a little straighter and drank more of his coffee. "Evidently, I'm sort of prone to migraines now."

Jackson nodded, looked at his mug, ran his thumb over the handle. "Well, as Jack, ah, the General said yesterday, the men involved in attacking you have pleaded guilty as a result of some serious persuasion by General O'Neill."

John's heart thumped hard, but he wasn't going to leap to conclusions. "Persuasion? Why?" He frowned. "Oh, because this is all classified?"

Jackson grimaced again. "Well, that's pretty much the biggest reason to keep it from any public airing, yeah." He took a sip of his coffee. "I understand you don't remember any of what happened?

John shook his head. "No, I don't."

Jackson looked into his cup again. "Obviously, there are still questions, but Sergeant Ramirez has been the most forthcoming and the details jibe with the details of Lieutenant Ford's investigation. Evidently, the original intent was to confront, not ambush, but Sergeant Baker had other ideas."

"Why?" Rodney's voice was sharp.

Jackson took another sip of coffee and looked directly at Rodney. "Because he'd decided that Major Sheppard's sexuality was an issue." He spared John an apologetic look. "That's not public knowledge, by the way."

It felt like John's stomach had just knotted up under his breastbone. "I see."

"I knew it." Rodney got up, began to pace. "God damn him, I knew it."

John just felt tired, tired and suddenly shaky. "Rodney, don't."

Jackson looked down at his cup again. "Baker shouldn't have been on the team anyway, not that the issue of his inclusion is necessarily moot, but his record isn't the cleanest. Anyway, according to Ramirez--who passed a polygraph, by the way—Baker jumped you, you fought back and things went bad from there. Ramirez claims he tried to de-escalate, and later, so did Ayers and Jenkins, but Baker was beyond reasoning. They finally had to haul him off physically. Ramirez also claims that he later went to find one of your team, but by that time, you'd been found and were already in the infirmary."

The names meant nothing to John; he could barely remember Everett and his officers, let alone any of the noncoms. "Why are *you* telling me this?" he asked hoarsely. "Why didn't the General just tell me yesterday? I took my chances, I knew a dishonorable discharge was the best I could get."

Jackson blinked. "No, that's not an issue, Major. Really, it's not. It's General O'Neill's belief that you've done an outstanding job here, a job you didn't sign on to do. And as for why I'm here telling you, as I said, Elizabeth's being quite protective, both of the autonomy of, ah, Atlantis, and of you. And it's difficult, the not remembering. I know, I've been there."

"This is a little different," Rodney snapped and stopped pacing. "Descending with your memories wiped versus nearly being murdered—big difference."

"Not completely," Jackson said, and his voice was a little sharp now. "I was dying of radiation poisoning, and that wasn't any treat. I still don't remember that part of it, but sometimes it helps to know why you don't remember."

John's mind skittered over that, even though he was familiar with the outlines of the story. It was hard to imagine the vital man across from him dying of radiation sickness, harder still to imagine what Rodney had described as Ascension. As for remembering versus understanding--maybe it helped Jackson, but it just made him angrier, even though he wanted to be done with the anger. "I appreciate the thought," he said finally and rubbed the scar that was hidden by his hair. "But I already knew I fought back and I already knew I got the crap kicked out of me. I think I even knew why."

Rodney let out a pent breath, stopped pacing, and put his hands on the sofa near John's head.

Jackson grimaced again. "The only why was a sociopath, Major, using his hate of anybody different from him as an excuse." For all the softness of his voice, his anger came through.

"Yeah." Thinly. After a moment, John drank the rest of his coffee and cleared his throat. "So, that's what General O'Neill wanted to talk to me about?"

"That was a part of it, yes." Jackson sighed and leaned forward. "I'm sorry, Major, there's no particularly easy way to do this. Your father, um, died four months ago."

Rodney's fingers closed over his shoulders. John stared at Jackson, unable to respond, unable to even think how he should respond. It was weird and a little scary, but he felt nothing. "How?"

"It was a heart attack. I understand that it was very sudden." Jackson's expression was sympathetic. "General O'Neill wants to make sure you understand that you're welcome to come back to Earth, that none of the political issues currently unresolved would affect your return."

Amnesty. John almost laughed, but even laughter had gone. "So I can go home and then come right back? No charges, no dishonorable discharge?"

Jackson sighed. "Since you've been gone, as you know, there have been some political changes. As the result of a lawsuit filed, we've seen new legislation. And completely aside from that, the guilty pleas mean that the issue of sexuality never came up in your case. Returning, well, that could be problematic, I won't lie to you, even the General doesn't have complete control over that."

John sighed, tilted his head back to look at Rodney. "I don't have any reason to go back, Dr. Jackson. Both my parents are gone, and I've got two sisters I don't even know. My home is here, now, and I sure as hell am not going to take the chance if you can't guarantee my return trip. And the truth is, even if you could, I know how the military works, and no matter what General O'Neill guarantees, there are other people who'd want to know more about what's going on in Atlantis."

Rodney's hands moved up to cradle his neck. "Precisely," he told Jackson.

Jackson sighed. "I'll be the first to agree that things were completely mishandled from Earth's side, Rodney, but are you people really willing to cut yourselves off from Earth permanently?"

"We knew that was a possibility from the start," Rodney told him, "And as you're well aware, Elizabeth Weir has not acted unilaterally, every member of the expedition—barring John, because it's tough to vote from a coma--cast a vote. The people who wanted to return to Earth returned when your people took Everett back through."

"I understand that. But things have changed since then, and cooler, saner heads are in charge."

"O'Neill?" Rodney's tone was incredulous.

Jackson flushed. "You don't know Jack O'Neill very well, Rodney. I've worked closely with him for almost nine years."

"Yes, and your personal relationship with him may cloud your ability to be objective."

John tilted his head back again, saw Rodney's expression was amused.

Jackson opened his mouth. Closed it. Finally smiled a little ruefully. "Maybe."

Tacit admission? John's heart thumped hard again.

"But," Jackson added, "I don't think so. He's an honorable man."

"He has a history with Special Ops," Rodney countered.

"And you worked with Simmons at Area 51," Jackson snapped, suddenly out of temper. "But we trusted you enough to bring you back from Russia to work on the Atlantis project."

John held up his hand, distantly amused that he was the one making peace. "Okay, this is getting a little far from what you came to tell me. Why don't I just go back to bed and let the two of you fight it out."

Rodney came around the end of the sofa and sat down next to him. "Sorry." Low voice.

Jackson looked down into his cup again. "My apologies, Major, you're right. The political issues aren't why I came this morning." He took another swallow from his cup, smiled faintly at both of them. "Although it is why I came to Atlantis. General O'Neill has a, uh, unique style of negotiation, but I've worked with Elizabeth in negotiating with the Goa'uld."

John looked at Rodney for explanation.

"At least you can negotiate with the Goa'uld," Rodney said, leaning . "I'm afraid negotiating with the Wraith is…well, would you be willing to talk to the hamburger on your plate?"

Jackson grimaced. "Right. Although we did have a pretty horrifiying discussion about the question of whether or not the Wraith could be used as hosts by the Goa'uld."

"Jesus." Rodney sounded horrified. "You're right, that's a horrifying thought."

John gave up. "The Goa'uld?"

"Megalomaniac parasitical reptiles that infiltrate the human body and control it," Rodney told him.

Snakes? John looked from Rodney to Jackson. "How the hell do you negotiate with snakes?"

"They control the host body," Jackson told him. "I'm starting to think the Goa'uld are the lesser of two evils after the intel on the Wraith."

Rodney put a hand on John's arm. "We're wandering again. John, are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" And then John remembered. He still felt nothing, or maybe he felt numb, he couldn't tell. "Oh. We, uh, hadn't been close the last ten or so years. I mean, I guess it'll sink in, but right now, I'm…I guess I'm okay."

Jackson finished his coffee. "Well, I'd better get back, I'm supposed to join General O'Neill and Elizabeth in another round of discussion." He mock-winced. "Hopefully more productive than last night's."

John sighed. "Am I supposed to be in attendance?"

Jackson smiled faintly. "I understand you have doctor's orders not to attend."

John couldn't help but feel relieved. He really didn't want to be caught between Elizabeth Weir and Jack O'Neill again. "Ah, yeah, Doc did say he strongly advised me against being in the same room with them at the moment." He watched Jackson set the cup aside and stand. "Um, thanks for the family news. And thank General O'Neill for the offer, but this is home now."

"And you're a citizen of Atlantis now," Jackson said mildly, "Or so I'm told."

"Apparently, yeah." John smiled a little. "I wonder if the General regrets talking me into coming."

"He's regretted it since he heard what happened to you." Jackson looked at him for a long moment. "Don't underestimate how angry he is about that."

"One thing you haven't said," Rodney put a hand on John's knee. "So these guys are pleading guilty. What does that mean, effectively? Prison time?"

"Yes, it does." Jackson sighed. "Ramirez got a break by coming clean and testifying against the other three, but the other three are going away for a very long time."

"Or you could just send them back and we could feed them to the Wraith," Rodney muttered.

Jackson nodded soberly.

John couldn't help finding Rodney's sentiment weirdly sweet, but Jackson's nod was a little scary. "Not even them," he said firmly and got an amused look from Jackson. "Seriously. And thanks." He bit his tongue on the errant and lunatic desire to send any messages to the General.

Once Jackson had gone, Rodney gave John an assessing look. "Are you sure you're all right?"

John considered it. "It probably says a lot about what an asshole I am, but I'm just sort of…numb. I hadn't spoken to him at all since everything went down in Afghanistan."

Rodney sighed. "Depth charge."

John blinked. "Say what?"

"That means it's going to hit like a depth charge, when you don't expect it." Rodney got up, leaned down and kissed John's forehead. "As if you aren't already dealing with enough shit."

John couldn't help laughing a little at that. "Hey, I'm tough, remember?"

That got him another kiss at the corner of his mouth and a hand briefly cupping his cheek. "Right you are, flyboy." Dry tone, and then Rodney sat down to examine the text scrolling on his laptop screen.

John hoped Rodney was wrong about the depth charge. "Hey, aren't you going to the lab?"

"Possibly later." Rodney gave him a smile. "I'm supposed to be keeping you distracted today."

"Jesus, whose idea was that?" John felt his temper stir again.

"Hmmm, let me think." Rodney left the laptop and came to take hold of his hand. "It wasn't Elizabeth's, she's been a bit busy, and besides, I think she'd prefer having you there to really rub in the fact that the military totally screwed up by sending Everett. And Carson would never encourage me to stay here and take advantage of your weakened state." He tugged John up.

John felt the smile take shape under his nose. "You are such a goof."

"And since General O'Neill really wanted to talk to you, I doubt it was his idea." Rodney tugged him toward the bedroom they hadn't used yet. "You know, I think it might have been mine."

John just grinned, temper forgotten. "Yours."

The second bedroom was sunlit and bright and the windows showed the sea stretching on forever. Oh, yeah, this was the view, John thought absently, at least once they cut him loose to actually work and he was getting up early anyway.

"Yes," Rodney said firmly. "Mine. Of course, you inspired it."

John wrapped an arm around Rodney's waist and tugged back, pulling their bodies together. "You really are trying to distract me. I'm gonna get lucky twice in one morning?"

"No, I am." Rodney kissed him, sweetly at first, then hungrily, breaking away only to tug John's shirt over his head.

John returned the favor, laughing a little until he kissed Rodney back. "Maybe we're both getting lucky."

"That's a possibility." Rodney reached for his waistband. "Lucky in Atlantis is an improvement over Sleepless in Seattle."

"You are such a goof," John told him, laughing again. "Not that I'm complaining, but aren't you always complaining that I'm the one who's always horny?" His pants, still too big, fell down and he stepped free, worked on Rodney's.

"Obviously you're right, we're exchanging character traits." Rodney helped get rid of his own pants.

John thought that was pretty funny, but he still wasn't complaining, especially not ten minutes later with his legs over Rodney's shoulders and his ass in Rodney's lap and oh, that was just right, just what he wanted, just what he needed, so the hell with political crises and General O'Neill and Colonel Everett and everybody else. They'd tried to kill him, and failed, and he was goddamned well alive and goddamned lucky. So good, so fucking good, and he couldn't even remember being the man who hadn't wanted to admit to himself what he wanted, didn't want to remember anything but the now.

Rodney touched him just right, just so good, and fucked him so slowly and sweetly and he came hard, gripping Rodney's arms, eyes closing even though he wanted to see Rodney's face when Rodney came.

After, of course, he dozed against Rodney's shoulder. "Dammit," he muttered, surfacing to find the sun was pretty damn high in the sky and that Rodney was sitting up and reading. "I'm getting tired of this."

Rodney's fingers carded the hair on the back of his head, or fluffed it, since it was still fairly short. "Get over it."

John sighed. "That feels good."

"I like it," Rodney said and chuckled when John rubbed his head against Rodney's palm. "You're as bad as a cat."

"Or as good as a cat," John murmured.

Another chuckle. "Better than a cat."

"Yup." John closed his eyes again, but sleep, for once, was elusive. Instead, he found himself thinking of his father and the last time they'd spoken. Which, strictly speaking, hadn't been so much speaking as yelling, and since he and his father had basically confined their communications to yelling since his mother's death and his graduation from the Academy, that had been pretty par for the course. It had started with his mother's death, really, the yelling instead of talking, but then, maybe it hadn't really, maybe it was just that up until then, he'd done all the listening and his father had done all the talking.

Up until then, John hadn't had much of an option to do otherwise. He'd wanted so badly to be what his father wanted him to be, wanted so badly to live up to his father's expectations. And he'd managed well enough that he didn't hate himself right up until the evening his parents had gone to the Officers' club and his father had a few too many drinks and his mother had decided she should be the one to drive so his father was snoring in the passenger seat and not the driver's seat when the *other* drunk had plowed into the Colonel's car on the driver's side, killing the Colonel's wife, although not instantly.

After that, John had been so angry that he'd said fuck the Colonel's expectations, and done what he wanted to do, for the most part. For the most part. The last ten years, when they hadn't been yelling at each other, they'd treated each other with the careful courtesy of strangers.

And now, all John could remember really well was his father teaching him to tie his shoes, teaching him to swim, teaching him to ride his bike, for God's sake.

Rodney was still carding his hair, and he turned his face into Rodney's hip.

"John?" Very softly.

The affection and kindness in Rodney's voice just undid him, and John couldn't believe he was fucking crying for his asshole father. Rodney had been right about the depth charge effect, and maybe he wasn't crying for his father as much as he was for the fact that once people were gone, there never was any resolution and human beings wanted resolution even if it was completely insane to think that resolution could ever really happen.

Thankfully, Rodney didn't embarrass him worse by trying to get him to talk, Rodney just kept touching him, ruffling his hair and rubbing the back of his neck until he got himself back under control and sat up. "Depth charge," he muttered, still a little embarrassed.

Rodney nodded. "I'm not surprised." Matter of fact tone, but he wrapped an arm around John's shoulders and kissed him on the mouth. "Shower."

It sounded good. It was good. John felt almost normal again by the time they were both dressed again, and even shaved. "I should go see O'Neill," he sighed.

"You should go see Carson first," Rodney told him and handed him a container of ice cream. "Eat, we just used a lot of calories."

John shrugged, accepted the spoon Rodney handed him next. "But I'm feeling fine," he said and opened the container.

"Well, unless you want to end up confined in Carson's infirmary, I'd suggest a visit."

"You're only saying that because you know he'll tell me it's against medical orders and then if I do it, I'll end up there for sure."

Rodney smirked. "And your point would be?"

"That you just want to be able to say you told me so."

"I'd do that anyway." Rodney took a protein bar from the bottom of the cabinet.

"How can you eat those things?"

"They're protein, it keeps my blood sugar up, therefore I'm used to them. Besides, compared to my mother's idea of cuisine and nutrition, these are fabulous. Hell, dormitory food was fabulous."

John considered this. "Dormitory food sucks, Rodney."

"Exactly."

It was impossible not to laugh. John sat down and ate the ice cream while Rodney simultaneously noshed on the protein bar, checked the reports he was running, or whatever the hell they were, his email and played a game of solitaire.

"Maybe you're right," he finally told Rodney.

"Of course I am," Rodney agreed, not looking away from what he was doing. "But with regard to what, specifically?"

John grinned. "Checking in with the Doc before I do anything rash."

Rodney looked at him. "Good."

"I should probably actually get into uniform."

"Do you get credit for wearing a uniform if it looks like your big brother's?" Rodney's tone was innocently curious.

"Ha ha." John threw the spoon at Rodney's ass, hit it right on target. "I've still got it."

"Indeed you do." Rodney's smile was mischievous.

John snorted and got up to get his boots and jacket, came back out with them. "Hey, these are new, I just realized."

Rodney looked up at him and all the humour was gone, all of it. For a moment, Rodney's face was so still, he thought something terrible had happened. "Oh. Yeah. The others were pretty well ruined."

"Ruined?" John blinked.

"Blood." Rodney went back to typing on the keyboard. "And Carson just cut the jacket off, of course."

"Oh." He felt stupid and insensitive. "Sorry."

Rodney's head came up. "Don't you dare apologize to me, John." Furious suddenly. "You didn't do a damn thing." He got up suddenly came around to put his hands on John's shoulders. "You goddamn well do not have to walk on eggs around me. Just—" Suddenly, the anger was gone. "Just brace yourself, because sometimes it brings back some pretty horrific moments."

John's throat ached. "So I'm still sorry."

"John." Rodney shook his head, hugged him hard. "They were more horrific for you, and thank God you don't remember them."

"Yeah, there is that." John shrugged into the jacket, sat down on the table to put on his boots. "Okay, I'm going to see if I can convince Carson to give me a temporary pass."

Rodney laughed. "And while you're doing that, I'll be in the lab. Come and get me if he doesn't put you in restraints."

"Hell, I'll send a note if he does." Rodney laughed outright, and that did one helluva lot to raise John's spirits. "Just make sure he puts me in a private room."

"Lunatic," Rodney said affectionately and let him go, smiling.

When Beckett finally had a moment to talk to him, he looked askance at John. "Do you really think that's necessary?"

John sighed. "Well, it's not necessarily my list of things I most want to do, but honestly, yeah, I do."

Beckett gazed at him for a moment. "Well, then." Not happy about it, but treating him like he knew what the fuck he was doing, which was reassuring, even if he himself wasn't so sure. "Then I'm going to give you an injector to take with you, lad. Don't wait. If you feel the headache trying to come on, you use it."

John took the injector, even though the idea of using it was a little unsettling. "Okay. Thanks."

"If you wait, you may end up where you were yesterday and I'll be annoyed." Beckett's expression was serious.

"Gotcha. Don't want the doctor annoyed."

"No, indeed. Your next physical could be very unpleasant."

"That's blackmail,' John protested, but grinned anyway. "Thanks."

Beckett arched an eyebrow. "Don't thank me, I'm doing it against my better judgement."

John left before Beckett's better judgement could kick in and headed toward the control room and Elizabeth's office. He wasn't altogether sure she'd be there, but she was, and she was alone.

"Hey," he said, sticking his head in. "I'm, ah, sorry about yesterday."

Elizabeth smiled wearily. "It was hardly your fault, John. And I owe you an apology anyway. I really was trying to keep you out of it, and I was out of line, the way I spoke to you."

That eased his mind a little. "Apology accepted. You know Dr. Jackson came to see me?"

Elizabeth's mouth quirked, not pleasantly. "So I understand. I apologize for that, too. If I'd known he had any intention of doing so—are you all right, John? I was sorry to learn about your father."

John couldn't go there; he nodded dismissively. "Yeah, I'm dealing. So what's the situation today? O'Neill still want to talk to me?"

"He backed off that after he sent Daniel to do an end run." Elizabeth was obviously pissed about that.

It was the smart move just to shoot on past it. "So what should I know today? Beckett gave me clearance to talk to O'Neill if it's necessary."

"At the moment, General O'Neill is meeting with Colonel Borden." Elizabeth smiled faintly. "But I think we're achieving something."

John nodded. "Um, Elizabeth, Dr. Jackson told me that the issue of, um, my relationship with Rodney didn't come up at all in official channels."

"Don't ask, don't tell," Elizabeth said, but her expression went thoughtful. "Really."

"Yeah, no dishonorable discharge, not that it matters, I guess, since you've, ah, kinda had the Atlantis war of independence."

Elizabeth flushed a little, looked at her laptop for a moment. "Well, I haven't really, you know. President Hayes is a lot saner than King George." Her mouth curved slightly. "It's good to know that they're not going to give you a hard time, John."

"Yeah. For whatever it's worth, since you named me the head of the Atlantis Air Force." He tried to say it lightly, but it came out too serious.

Elizabeth flushed again. "Technically, you are, I suppose." That faint smile again. "Assuming we have to go that far."

"If you do, see if you can convince Borden to stay. Cuz I have to tell you, I suck behind a desk even if I do have to watch out for migraines."

Elizabeth winced at that. "I'm truly sorry for yesterday, John."

"Elizabeth," he said, "You didn't give me the migraine. It just kicked in. Are you going to get mad if I go talk to General O'Neill and the Colonel, make nice?"

She sighed. "I deserve that, I know. I kept you in the dark and I'm sorry, John, but I'd do it again, Carson and I both agreed you didn't need the additional stress, and yesterday was proof of that. And speaking of yesterday, are you so sure it's a good idea?"

John held up the injector. "I'm up to self-medicating. Believe me, I don't need to gutsball through it, I'll dose myself and get the hell out if it hits."

"Well, I'm not going to get mad," she said and there was that smile again. "You do what you need to do, John, and if I've put you in a hard place, you do what you need to do for that."

John held her gaze. "Elizabeth, I'm with you, I'd just feel a whole lot better if I knew what I was backing."

"Well, then," ELizabeth said, "Sit down and I'll give you the succinct version."

John grinned and pulled up a chair. "Cool."


	7. Chapter 7

The way Elizabeth sketched it out, her plan was elegant. Earth needed Atlantis more than Atlantis needed Earth, which had been more or less granted since Elizabeth's plan had driven their last victory. To prevent any one country's military from taking control of Atlantis, Elizabeth had raised the threat of, as he'd joked, an Atlantean war of independence. The defense against the Wraith had proven that the shields would defend against any onslaught from the sky, and the shield over the 'gate kept anything from coming through without an IDC. She had them, and he had to admire the way she'd thought it out. Atlantis was, she said, international and neutral, and while she'd be happy to house military members and be even gladder of the defensive skills, she was not going to allow it to become a military base, no matter what nation tried.

Funny, it was a lot harder to play the imperialism game across galaxies when it came to the Ancients technology.

"You're smiling," Elizabeth said finally.

"I'm just impressed," John said, and got up. "That's why you're the boss, ma'am, and I'm a grunt."

She made an unladylike sound. "The hell."

John grinned again. "Slick. Very slick. And you know, if you've got O'Neill coming to the mountain, I think it damned well might work. And if it doesn't—well, we lived without Earth for a year and Rodney told Dr. Jackson that anybody with second thoughts went back when Everett got shipped back."

"True." Elizabeth seemed relieved. "Thank you, John."

John shrugged. "This is home, Elizabeth. It's weird, but it is. Now if we could just get those really bad neighbors to move to another galaxy."

"Maybe we'll be able to, eventually." Elizabeth looked a little sad. "But it would be easier with Earth available. And Earth's allies."

"The Asgard," John said, remembering what Everett had told them on his arrival. "The universe is weirder than I ever thought."

"And wider," Elizabeth said softly. "Are you going to find O'Neill now?"

"Nope. I'm gonna go get Rodney and make him have lunch with me. It'll almost feel like old times, then."

She rose and walked to her office door with him. "Things will get better, John."

John arched an eyebrow. "I'm awake, Elizabeth. I'm not paralyzed, I'm not brain damaged, things are already better."

Elizabeth looked at him for a moment, and her eyes were suspiciously bright. "Welcome back, John," she said and leaned up to give him a brief, fierce hug. "You've become Atlantis' miracle, you know."

John blushed. "For living? I hope other people can do more than that, for God's sake."

Elizabeth laughed. "Go have lunch, you could use it."

John grinned and did.

 

Rodney was relatively easy to lure away for lunch, given that John snuck up behind him and put his hands over Rodney's eyes while he was typing.

"Guess who."

"I can't imagine. Peter?"

John pulled his hands back and flicked the back of Rodney's head. "Very funny."

Rodney shook his head, laughing softly. "That's so ridiculously good for my ego, John."

"Oh, like that needs feeding," he retorted, a little sulky in spite of good sense.

To John's surprise, Rodney stood up, took hold of his face and kissed him thoroughly. In the lab. Without having the doors locked and with Kavanaugh on the other side of the room. Rodney kissed him hard enough that he was a little dazed when Rodney let go.

"Wow." John licked his lips. "What was that for?"

"I'm unduly fond of you," Rodney told him. "Let's go."

Someone nearby coughed. Rodney looked over his shoulder. "Ah, Colonel Carter."

John felt his face heat up, turned slightly to nod pleasantly to Carter. "Colonel."

Carter was as red as he felt. "Major. Uh, Dr. McKay, could you have a look at these results?"

"Of course," Rodney said and followed her around a console.

John stared after them for a moment before following.

"It's very close to your model, but there are some key differences," Carter said.

"Very key," Rodney said, "As in instant annihilation key differences."

"I don't think so," she disagreed. "If you'll look here, the power channels through here."

Rodney pointed at the screen display. "Which would leave us with a catastrophic electrical charge running through the very corridors that saved our ass from the monster storm from hell, frying anyone unlucky or unwise enough to still be in the city. I realize it's a far cry from destroying an entire planet, Colonel, but since we happen to live here, I'd rather not. Your promotion seems to have enhanced your capacity for insane ideas!"

Colonel Carter glanced at him, her smile gelid. John bit the inside of his mouth to keep from smirking. Rodney, it seemed, was in rare form. "He gets excitable sometimes," he told Carter sympathetically.

"Tell me about it."

Rodney gave him a long look. John grinned. "Well, you do."

"In other words, Colonel," Rodney told her, ignoring him. "No."

"McKay," she said levelly.

John had seen these pissing matches before, although not nearly as heated. "Um, excuse me, Colonel, but, you know, his blood sugar problem and I'm under doctor's orders myself, we've got to get lunch."

"We do?" Rodney, already winding up, stopped, eyed him. "Yeah, we do."

John thought that Carter looked relieved. He bit the inside of his mouth again until they went past Kavanaugh. "Okay, is that how the two of you always relate?"

"She thinks you're cute," Rodney told him, amused. "And yeah, pretty much."

"She—what?"

"Idiot," Rodney said fondly. "Let's go get lunch."

"Okay." John shook his head, bemused. "I can't believe you did that. You wouldn't fool around in the infirmary."

"I kissed you in the infirmary," Rodney objected. "A lot, in fact."

John had to admit the truth of that. "Well, I'm not complaining. I may have to come back three or four times a day for that."

Rodney smirked. "I wouldn't say no."

John smirked back. "Cool."

They were a little past the usual lunch hour, so the dining hall was relatively deserted.

"So," Rodney said, sitting down next to him. "Did you talk to O'Neill?"

"Not yet. I talked to Elizabeth." John picked up a perfectly normal turkey sandwich and bit into it with relish. "Mmm, that's good."

Rodney grinned, dug into his own. "Eating your weight, I told you."

"If that was the case, I wouldn't have my belt cinched up so tight." John bumped his shoulder against Rodney's. "Jeez, I forgot how much fun it was to feel half-way healthy again."

"And no headache?" Rodney's voice was deceptively soft.

"You worry too much." John bumped again. "And no. But Doc gave me an injector since I told him I needed to talk to O'Neill."

"You'd better talk to O'Neill before he leaves. Jackson and Carter are staying here for a few days, but I think O'Neill's got stuff to take back to the president."

"I'm going to see if I can catch up with him after lunch, in fact."

Rodney nodded and took another bite, bumped back companionably.

He really was more than slightly insane, John thought happily. Or maybe it was just human, the ability to focus in on the things that made him happy, while putting aside the big, scary, saddening things that went on around him.

Which thought brought a tremor about his dad, and he shoved that one under fast, drowned it before it could bring him down. He let his gaze travel around the room, seeing people he didn't recognize. "Hey, who is that?" He lifted his chin in the general direction and looked at Rodney.

Rodney looked. "Mmmm. Dr. Hawkins is the tall skinny one, Med sciences. The voluptuous redhead is Maureen McElroy, botany, and the short guy is Harry Lee, also botany. They came on Daedelus, decided to stay here when Elizabeth, ah, took her stand."

John grinned. "Does that mean we get more special brownies?"

Rodney smirked a little. "Possibly, although right now, the focus is on hydroponics, help with the food production." He laughed a little. "You're very funny when you're stoned."

"Yeah, it's your turn." John took a sip of his coffee. "Maybe they'll grow coffee beans."

"Maybe."

John glanced at Rodney again, was struck by Rodney's expression. He kept seeing that expression at odd moments, and it reminded him of that terrible stillness when he'd commented on the new boots and jacket. "You okay?"

Startled look. "I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"

Okay, he was an idiot. Maybe. John bumped Rodney. "You'd tell me if you weren't, wouldn't you?"

Affectionate look and Rodney shook his head. "I'm fine."

"You didn't answer me."

"Yes," Rodney said, all exaggerated patience. "I'd tell you if I wasn't. Have I ever not told anyone when I wasn't? Even when they didn't want to know?"

"Okay, okay." John relaxed, grinned, and went back to finishing his sandwich.

Rodney kept pointing out strangers to him, and that was good, it made John feel like he was catching up a little, at least, and it wasn't so weird once he knew names. Better yet, there were faces John recognized, people who were apparently pleased to see him up around, and while they left him alone to eat, there were smiles and waves and hellos.

He'd been more right than he realized when he'd told Jackson this was home. This was his home, his community and his people, and maybe he wasn't best buddies with everyone, but despite occasional friction and temper and disagreements, they were all in it together. And right now, the population was small enough, they mostly knew each other. "You know, it's going to suck when this place really starts growing."

Rodney arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"I was just thinking, we pretty well all know each other, at least a little. We get much bigger, that's going to be hard."

"The human dilemma," Rodney agreed and took his last bite. "And then we'll need law enforcement for real, and a justice system and police and prisons and social services and—"

John put his hand over Rodney's mouth. "I know, don't remind me."

Rodney took hold of his wrist, kissed his palm and pulled his hand away. "And speaking of reminding, that was a good job of diverting me, but I really have to get back to the lab before Carter really does come up with a way to blow up the planet."

John took his own last bite, drank the last of his coffee. "Yeah, and I better catch the General and make nice before he treks back through the 'gate. Isn't this causing a drain on our own ZPM?"

"Nope." Rodney shook his head. "We're using the one the Daedelus brought for Gate use. But it shows you're thinking ahead, I like that."

John rubbed the bridge of his nose with his middle finger, which made Rodney chuckle. They walked out of the dining hall together, but John turned toward the ready room to see if he could find Ford.

He didn't, but he did find Bates. "Hey, Sergeant, I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of General O'Neill."

Bates, who was playing solitaire, looked up, got up. "Major, good to see you out and about again."

"Not as good as it is to be out and about," John said cheerfully. "The General?"

"I imagine he's over with Colonel Borden, sir." Bates eyed him. "Is that a good idea?"

"At ease, Sergeant, Dr. Weir knows and approves." John shook his head ruefully. "Not that I don't appreciate the concern."

Bates picked up his holster, buckled it on. "Why don't I walk you over there, sir. It's on the other side of the control center."

"I don't think you need to be armed to do that, Sergeant," John said firmly.

"Dr. Weir's orders, sir." Bates smiled faintly, humourlessly. "Besides, we didn't exactly anticipate that four of our own would jump you, did we?"

"I really don't think that's going to happen this time," John said, but it made his skin prickle to think about it anyway. "If you're not busy, I guess that's fine."

Bates wasn't the most talkative guy, generally, but they chatted, mostly about procedures and processes Elizabeth had instituted, which was good because it brought John up to speed. That part was good, although he was still uneasy with the us versus them aspects.

"And here's Colonel Borden's office, sir," Bates told him, after pointing out the living quarters. Bates knocked on the door, standing at attention, which made John's skin prickle again.

Borden opened the door, arched his eyebrows in surprise, but smiled a little. "Major Sheppard. Please, come in."

"I was, ah, looking for General O'Neill."

"Ah. He's in quarters—down at the end of the hall, we've got some set aside for temporary quarters. I'll show you." Borden's tone was polite, but his gaze was undeniably curious.

Bates, of course, walked with them.

It was awkward, damned awkward, and John was glad it wasn't far. He knocked this time, and the door opened almost immediately. O'Neill stood in the door, and behind him, leaning against the wall, stood Daniel Jackson.

O'Neill looked very surprised to see him. "Major Sheppard. What can I do for you?"

Huh. "General," he said, "I, ah, wanted to apologize about yesterday. And I was wondering if I could speak with you privately."

O'Neill raised his eyebrows, but nodded. "Sure. Daniel, we'll finish this discussion later, if you don't mind."

Jackson's mouth twitched. "Yes, we will, but no, I don't mind."

The look they exchanged was….mutually irritated. John almost found that funny.

Bates looked reluctant to leave him, which wasn't so funny. "I'll wait for you in the Colonel's office, sir."

John winced, looked apologetically at Borden, who apparently decided to find it amusing and nodded, said, "Buy you a cup of coffee, Sergeant Bates?"

Bates was expressionless. "That'd be very nice, sir."

O'Neill's expression was just as amused. "I'm not armed, it's safe."

John opened his mouth to protest, realized O'Neill was joking. "Neither am I," he said, and went in when O'Neill gestured. "I, uh, just wanted to thank you."

O'Neill sat on the bed, pointed at the chair. "I guess since you're not one of mine, I don't have to say 'at ease', but at ease. Thank me for what?"

John sat. "Um, Dr. Jackson came to see me this morning."

"Ah." O'Neill nodded. "Yeah, I asked him if he could find a way to talk to you. I'm sorry about the family news."

Fuck, John had hoped to dance past that, and now his throat ached. He nodded, afraid to trust his voice. "But I meant about the other thing."

O'Neill glanced away, sighed. "I didn't do anything except keep things focused where they should have been focused. Your personal life would have become the issue, not the fact that Everett didn't have control of his men, not the fact that his men tried to kill you, and not the fact that Radner had overridden the psych evaluations to insist on Baker's assignment to the unit."

Oh. "I didn't know about all that."

O'Neill's mouth quirked. "Well, Daniel has a tendency to focus in on what he thinks is important, so I'm not surprised."

John looked at his hands. "Sir. About my father." He must be insane, he couldn't believe he was asking. "Could you." He had to stop and clear his throat.

"John, it was very fast, very sudden." O'Neill's voice was astonishingly kind. "I talked to the doctors once we were notified. He did leave some papers for you, but I didn't bring them. Obviously, we had no idea when we came what your condition was, but I'll bring them next time I come through. Are you sure you don't want to come back?"

"Nothing for me there, sir." John struggled to keep his voice from wobbling. "I just. Do you know if he got my last letter?"

"That I can tell you, and yes, he did." O'Neill stood up. "It was in his personal effects, and from what he said to the hospital staff, he had read it, knew you were out of touch on a classified mission."

John nodded again. "Well, that's all I wanted to say, sir."

O'Neill studied him for a minute. "You know, we're going to get this all sorted out. Do you really want me to accept your letter of resignation?"

John swallowed hard. "Sir, right now, I work for Dr. Weir. I know that's not what you intended when you asked me to go, but that's the way it is."

"And you've done a good job." O'Neill's mouth quirked. "But, when we get this sorted out, I have a feeling everyone will be mostly happy, except for some idiots in the Pentagon, and maybe a few here and there elsewhere. And what I'm saying is that you're good enough at what you do I'd hate to lose you. So, think about it. I'll hold on to that letter, it's been, what, nearly a year since you wrote it."

John's face got hot. "About, yeah." Give or take 10 months, he thought, guiltily.

O'Neill eyed him. "So there's no rush, right?"

After a moment, John shrugged. "I guess not. As long as you remember that I stand with Dr. Weir in this, and if it comes to that, you have to know it's her orders I'll follow."

"Fair enough." For some reason, O'Neill found that amusing.

John was uneasy. "Sir?"

"Take it easy, Sheppard, I'm just remembering the guy who really didn't want to go through the Stargate."

John flushed. "Well, things happened, sir."

"Yeah, they sure as hell did." O'Neill rose. "Come on, let's get a cup of coffee. I have to finish arguing with Dr. Jackson." Sidelong look. "You know how stubborn scientists can be."

"Um, yeah, I do." John felt a little dazed.

"He wants to stay here until I get things organized for the diplomats to come through."

Diplomats? John wasn't going to ask. "Ah."

"He's a linguist and an archaeologist, what the hell is he going to do?" O'Neill opened the door.

John thought about Corrigan. "Well, sir, he's pretty much the authority on Ancient, isn't he?"

"Ah, you've been here too long, they're affecting you." O'Neill narrowed his eyes. "I hear you're responsible for the new Mersennes primes."

"Me?" John nearly squeaked it. "Not me, I just, um, recognized the equations were equations."

"Nice try," O'Neill told him. "But no cigar. You still got credit when our guys published the carefully edited version."

Holy shit. "Credit?"

"Credit."

They'd just reached Borden's office door when the 'gate klaxon sounded. Bates popped out of Borden's office as if he were on springs. "Nobody's out," he told John and then ran.

John ran after him, cursing when he remembered that he wasn't armed.

Voices behind him suggested Borden was mobilizing his people, too, which was mildly reassuring.

He caught up to Bates near the control center, took the stairs to meet Elizabeth behind the 'gate crew.

"It's Stargate Command," Peter Grodin told them. "For General O'Neill."

That didn't sound good. John turned, saw O'Neill coming up the stairs.

"It's for you," Elizabeth said drily.

O'Neill hadn't been expecting it, that much was clear from his expression. "Put it through."

"General O'Neill," said the voice. "Colonel Reynolds here."

"Colonel Reynolds," O'Neill said, "Don't tell me things got out of hand there, I was only gone one night."

"No, sir, well, not here. Major Davis is here and needs urgently to speak with you, and since it involves, ah, Atlantis personnel, I thought we ought to use the power to do so."

"Put him on."

Davis. John couldn't place the name with a face, so it wasn't anyone he knew.

"General, Major Davis here. We've got a situation here involving one of the Atlantis personnel. Janet Sheppard Bishop and Marilyn Sheppard Niles have taken legal action to force the US Air Force to release their brother's whereabouts to them."

John's jaw dropped. "What?"

"Sir?" Davis again.

O'Neill favored John with a narrow look. "I thought you said you didn't have a reason to go home."

Gobsmacked, John shook his head. "I don't. I mean, they're my half-sisters, I haven't seen Marilyn since I graduated from the Academy, and it's been about eight years since I saw Jan."

"I take it that's Major Sheppard," Davis said. "Major Sheppard, it might be possible to forestall this if you can give General O'Neill a letter for your sisters."

"I thought we had everyone's record nicely scrubbed," O'Neill said. "What harm in releasing the cover story?"

"Well, sir, that cover story also happens to be referenced in the official records of the courts martial of Sergeants Ramirez, Ayers—"

"Never mind, I get it. And that's only going to make things worse, if they think we're covering up his death or permanent injury." O'Neill's expression wasn't happy.

"Yeah, I can write, of course." John shook his head to clear it. "Yeah, of course."

'You can use my office," Elizabeth said, obviously trying to hide her smile. "I'm assuming the General wants to stick to his schedule."

"You know it." O'Neill looked less irritated. "Go," he told John.

John went, utterly befuddled. Elizabeth dug out paper and a pen for him and he stared at the first blank sheet. "What the hell should I say?" he asked Elizabeth, already on the way out.

She smiled a little. "Tell them you're fine, tell them you're doing good work, and I'd suggest talking about something that only you and they would know."

Ah. "Good idea," he said and picked up the pen. In the end, he kept it brief, addressed it to both of them, wrote about the work he was doing, that it was important, that he was sorry he hadn't been able to return for their father's funeral, but that he'd been sick enough to be in the hospital at the time. As far as lies went, that was almost close enough to the truth that he didn't feel too badly about it. He wrote about the last time he'd seen both of them, and that he appreciated a lot the fact that they were concerned enough to take action, but please not to worry, he'd try and keep in touch when things settled down. That done, he signed it, stuck it into the envelope Elizabeth had given him—wondering, in the meantime, why the hell they'd brought envelopes to Atlantis. The postal service didn't cover Pegasus galaxy.

That idea made him laugh silently, so he was feeling a little less thunderstruck and shaken when he took the letter to O'Neill.

O'Neill took it, smiled. "Keep an eye on Daniel, Elizabeth. He has a tendency to get himself into trouble."

"No, I don't." Jackson looked slightly irritated by that.

"One word, Daniel. Kelowna."

Jackson opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything.

"Sweet," O'Neill said and winked at John. "And you, you stay out of trouble, too, Major."

"I always do my best, sir" John said. Colonel Carter and the big guy with the gold tattoo were already down near the gate.

"Dial it up," Elizabeth told Peter.

"Carter," O'Neill said and started down the stairs. "I hope you've got the GDO."

"Yes, sir." Carter looked up, raised a hand to John with a smile. "All set to transmit."

The chevrons locked, one by one, and the gate whooshed to life. John watched the three walk through and sighed. It was only mid-afternoon and he was already tired. Convalescence totally sucked. "Elizabeth, I'm, ah, going to get some rest, I think."

"Good," she said and smiled as the wormhole shut down. "I think that's a very good idea." She patted his arm lightly once. "You'll be back at work before you know it. Carson's pretty happy about how well you're doing, but he's worried about you pushing it."

John rolled his eyes and left, headed for the lab to see Rodney, but Rodney wasn't there. A little disappointed, he headed for home.

Rodney was in the second bedroom, sitting on the far side of the bed and staring at the windows.

John's stomach did a lazy roll. "Rodney?" he asked softly and Rodney nearly leapt to his feet.

"Ah, what? John." Rodney glanced over his shoulder. "Jesus, you startled me."

"You okay?" Suddenly uncertain, John stood in the doorway, not sure what to do.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Brisk tone and Rodney tweaked the blankets into place. "So, did you talk to O'Neill?"

"Yeah, I did." John tilted his head. "Rodney, talk to me."

"Nothing to talk about." Rodney came toward him, stopped to kiss his mouth gently. "You look tired."

"I am, a little." He slipped his arms around Rodney. "Lie down with me?"

"I was going back to the lab," Rodney began, but kissed him again. "Okay."

"Cool." John kissed back, slow and easy, holding on, and Rodney's stiffness eased, Rodney's arms went around him.

Rodney nudged him toward the bed, and he sat down, took off his boots and jacket and stretched out. Rodney sat down, put a hand in his hair, leaned down, and kissed him again, once on the mouth, once on the temple and again on the forehead. He reached up to touch Rodney's face, worried again. "Hey."

"Hey." And then it seemed okay, Rodney settled next to him, although sitting up. "I'll be here, reading."

John had no quarrel with that, so he shifted to put his arm across Rodney's lap and his forehead against Rodney's hip. "Hey, you won't believe this, but my sisters are trying to sue the Air Force to find out where I am."

"What?" Rodney looked down at him, bemused. "Are you kidding?"

John grinned. "No, I'm not. I had to write a letter for O'Neill to take back."

"And O'Neill thinks that's going to work?" Rodney's tone was dry. "I have to admit, your sisters just rose in my estimation."

"I think it'll work." John sighed, slid his hand under the hem of Rodney's shirt. "I was a little freaked out. I mean, we drop each other a line now and then, and I usually manage to send Christmas cards, but it's not like we're close. It's gotta be because I wasn't there for the funeral."

"Whatever the reason." Rodney ruffled his hair again. "It impresses me."

"Yeah, but you're obviously easily impressed, you like me."

"There is that," Rodney said drily, but spoiled it by smiling.

John smiled back, rubbed his thumb over Rodney's bare stomach. "You really okay?"

"I'm fine." Firmly. "Now rest."

"Resting," he agreed, and smirked, rubbed Rodney's stomach again. "Resting now."

Rodney snorted. "I'm having a hard time believing that."

John snickered, but he really was tired. "I am, honestly."

More hair ruffling and Rodney rubbed the back of his neck. "Let me help."

"You know that works," John murmured and closed his eyes again, let Rodney's fingers rub tension away.

As the tension went, so did consciousness and John went under, woke a while later to discover it was just after sunset, he was drooling on the collar of Rodney's shirt, and that Rodney, while not drooling, was dozing. He wiped the corner of his mouth on Rodney's collar and hooked a leg over Rodney's.

"Go back to sleep," Rodney muttered and sighed.

John yawned, rubbed his face, beard stubble and all, into Rodney's neck and got his hair tugged. "I think I'm hungry and I know I have to pee."

"You've already drooled on me." Rodney tugged his hair again.

He bit Rodney's jaw gently in revenge, and pushed himself upright. "I'll be right back."

Rodney's eyes were already closing. "Uh-hummmm."

John yawned again, swung his legs off the bed and went to take care of necessities, which included getting another container of ice cream. His only complaint about the regularity of the appearance of the small containers was that there was only vanilla. He wondered if they could request different flavors or even brands, and what Atlantis could trade in return. Maybe the Athosians could gear up their meathla production and it could become a delicacy on Earth. Of course, with the whole classified issue, it could only become a delicacy with diplomats, politicians and the military. While he had no objection to the military enjoying it, he felt that neither the diplomats or politicians deserved it.

He wandered back into the bedroom with his ice cream and sat up against the headboard to eat it, watching in the fading light as Rodney's eyes moved beneath his eyelids. When he'd finished and could trust that his hands weren't cold from the container, he slid back down in bed and slipped an arm under Rodney's neck, kissed the corner of Rodney's jaw.

Rodney muttered something inaudible and rolled on his side, spooning into John's body. That was nice, too, John thought and kissed the side of Rodney's neck, nuzzled him.

"'s nice," Rodney breathed, still more asleep than awake.

John nuzzled again, slipped his hand under Rodney's shirt. Two months, he thought and hugged Rodney. Two months, and Rodney's imagination was his worst enemy, and he couldn't even begin to fathom how bad Rodney's imagination had been for him until John had finally gotten around to opening his eyes.

He was still angry at Elizabeth and Beckett for leaving the living will issues up to Rodney, but he had nowhere to go with that anger; he didn't want Rodney thinking about it, he couldn't cope with Rodney thinking about it, because Rodney, whatever else he might show the world in general, had a keen sense of his failures, even when they weren't really failures or really his.

John nuzzled again and Rodney murmured inaudibly and put a hand over his. He didn't want to wake Rodney, he really didn't, but he didn't want to stop touching, either. He'd lost two months, and that was two months too damn many, and Rodney felt good, smelled good, and yeah, tasted good. He put his leg in between Rodney's and rubbed his cheek against Rodney's hair.

"'s really nice," Rodney murmured again and shifted, dislodging John's arms and leg, rolled to face him and rubbed his nose against John's. "You still hungry?"

"Uh uh, I ate something." John kissed Rodney's chin, then his mouth. "You were tired."

"Yeah, I guess." Rodney put an arm around John's waist. "You slept hard, it must have been contagious. And you drooled on me."

"Like you don't have my spit on you regularly." John grinned.

"That's my skin, not my shirt." Rodney kissed him again, slipped his hand under the back of John's shirt. "You're still warm from sleeping," he murmured.

"Mmmhmm." So was Rodney and Rodney was the most relaxed he'd been since John had awakened from a goddamned coma, and God, that made him feel good, really good. He kissed Rodney again, and slipped his leg back between Rodney's. "Let's just stay here."

Soft huff of laughter. "Forever? We'd starve."

John grinned. "Okay, maybe just for tonight. No worries, no going outside our quarters, no calls, no visitors, just us."

Rodney's hand rubbed a circle on his back. "Hmmm, we could probably do that."

"Yeah?" John was pleased.

"Yeah." Rodney put his forehead on John's shoulder, kissed the edge of his jaw before subsiding again, drifting a little.

John wrapped his arms around Rodney, nuzzled. "Go back to sleep," he murmured. It was probably just that he was tired of being the guy convalescing, but it would be nice to just do something nice for Rodney, to let him relax for a change and stop fucking worrying. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Mmmm." Rodney shifted, he shifted and that was way okay, that was better than okay, that was Rodney trusting him and totally letting go.

Smiling a little senselessly at the ceiling, John tightened his arms, and let himself relax. Things, he thought, were finally going to be okay, maybe.

At least a guy could hope.


	8. Chapter 8

"So, Doc, when do you think you'll clear me to get back on duty?" John lay very still on the examining table, watching as Beckett used the diagnostic scanner. "Anytime soon?"

"How many headaches this week?" Beckett asked, not even trying for casual.

John scowled. Beckett knew damn well how many. "Two. I mean limited duty. Obviously, until we get the damn headache thing licked, it's not a great idea for me to be flying, but we will, right?"

Beckett sighed. "Well, I think I'll be able to alleviate the frequency and the severity, lad, once I get fine-tuned with the regeneration tool, but I'll not take any chances until then."

"Define alleviate." John's heart thumped hard.

"I told you, John, you may always be subject to these. Your neck was broken, lad, and your spinal cord was damaged, and if that device hadn't worked, you could very easily have been paralyzed from the neck down."

John had known that. He had. He guessed there was a part of him that hadn't wanted to accept it particularly. "Does that mean I'm never going to be able to fly again?"

"I believe that you will, lad, but I canna make promises at this point."

Oh, fuck. That hit like a blow to the gut. "Never?"

"Possibly if there's a backup pilot on board." Beckett's gaze was sympathetic. "There, I'm done, lad, you're free to go."

"Thanks." John sat up, considered, and decided he wasn't going to buy into pessimism. He couldn't. Heading out of the infirmary, he decided to talk to Elizabeth first.

"You're still the ranking officer on Atlantis," Elizabeth told him.

She didn't understand. "Elizabeth, I have to fly. I just need a backup, in case."

"Not until Carson clears you."

"I can live with that. I can't live with not flying again." John's palms were sweaty. "Please."

Her expression made his throat hurt. "John, I promise you, even if it's not possible for you to fly off-world, you will fly again."

"Okay." His voice was a little shaky. "Thanks. I just. I needed to hear that, that's all."

She nodded understandingly.

"Elizabeth. Oh, Major, hello, am I interrupting anything?"

John turned to see Daniel Jackson in the doorway. "No, I was just going to get some lunch."

Jackson looked from him to Elizabeth. "Everything all right?"

"Absolutely," Elizabeth told him. "How are you doing on the mainland?"

Jackson beamed. "Very well. I think we might actually have located information that indicates another cache of technology on the far edge of the mountain range that cuts across the western coast of the mainland."

"Really?"

"Yes, I've just spoken with Dr. McKay and he's very excited about going out there with us."

John looked at Elizabeth. "I could go, too," he told her, "I'm not on active duty."

She didn't like that idea. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Hey, I can still activate the tech with a migraine," he protested. "And I'm not asking to fly out there."

"We could use him," Jackson said.

"Daniel." Elizabeth was exasperated, but she finally looked back at John. "If Carson approves it, yes. If he doesn't, don't even ask me again."

"When are you leaving?' John asked Jackson.

Jackson arched an eyebrow. "Well, actually, we're talking about tomorrow."

John's stomach was a little upset. Rodney hadn't said anything, but maybe Rodney hadn't known until today. "Okay, just give me a chance to talk to the doc before you leave."

"Of course." Jackson smiled at him. "Absolutely."

John nodded, and left them.

Beckett looked up when he came back into the infirmary. "John?"

"Listen, can you clear me for a field trip tomorrow? Rodney and Jackson and some of the science team are all heading out to the mainland to investigate a possible cache of tech, and Jackson said they could use me out there." His heart thumped hard again when Beckett frowned. "I won't be flying, Doc, and I can take some injectors with me."

Beckett considered that. "And if you have to use more than one, John, I want you back here."

John swallowed hard and his knees felt a little wobbly with relief. "Okay."

Beckett's frown eased. "Well, then. I don't see why not."

"Thanks, Doc." John grinned shakily. "Be sure and tell Elizabeth, because I don't think she'll believe me."

"She just worries," Beckett said, and his mouth twitched. "I'll let her know."

Elizabeth wasn't the only one who worried. When John reached the lab and imparted his news, Rodney frowned. "Carson cleared it?"

"It's a field trip," John said patiently, then, "What did I tell you about worrying too much?"

"You're right." Rodney's frown eased. "Actually, this could work, I wasn't entirely happy about leaving at this point."

"At this point?" John studied him. "Jesus, Rodney, I still don't need a nanny. Thirty-seven years old at this point, remember?"

"Oh, it was less about you than about my peace of mind," Rodney said grudgingly. "I know, I know, I worry too much."

On the other hand, Rodney had been through two months of hell, John thought and kissed him right there in the lab.

Rodney surfaced from that with a pleased expression.

"Get a room," Kavanaugh muttered, on his way past, which made Rodney smirk at his back.

"What else did Carson say?"

"That I'm a lot healthier than I ought to be, not that he's complaining. And he's still thinking there's something he can do about alleviating the headaches, but he wasn't communicating a lot about that." John shrugged. "As long as it doesn't involve re-breaking my neck. Lunch, genius, before your blood sugar drops."

"As if you even believe my blood sugar drops," Rodney told him, but turned back to his laptop to either save or stop whatever process was running.

"I do." Offended, John poked Rodney's shoulder. "I checked with Doc a long time ago."

"You checked?" But Rodney's mouth twitched.

Oops. "Yeah, I checked, I needed to know what to do if you totally passed out on a mission." Nice save, he told himself, but Rodney looked at him and it was obvious that Rodney wasn't really buying it.

"Right."

"I did!" John insisted. And really, even if that hadn't been the original reason, Beckett had clarified enough that he actually had left knowing what to do in a worst-case scenario. That had been during their first few months in Pegasus galaxy, and he'd sworn he was never going to let Rodney know, but what the hell.

Still, in spite of disbelief, Rodney looked mildly pleased and kissed him again in the lab before they walked together to the dining hall.

Lunch was unremarkable, except for the fact that it was good old fashioned American style chili, and Elizabeth joined them as John had nearly finished.

"I understand you've got the go ahead for tomorrow," Elizabeth said, clearly amused. "Carson made a special trip to my office to assure me that he'd given you a medical clearance to go with the team."

John grinned. "Just wanted to make sure you knew."

"You know," Elizabeth said and sat down across from Rodney. "We're really not trying to annoy you, John."

"I know. But I'm getting cabin fever." He shrugged apologetically.

She rolled her eyes. "John, you haven't been awake long enough to develop cabin fever."

"Yes, he has, despite my best efforts." Rodney's tone was dry. "It's the flying thing, Elizabeth."

She arched one eyebrow. "You still can't fly until Carson clears it, you know."

"I know," John said patiently, although he had hopes of wheedling some flight time out of whichever one of his own pilots caught the duty tomorrow.

Rodney snorted and took a sip of coffee. "Right."

"He hasn't cleared it." Elizabeth gave John a meaningful look.

"I know."

The gate klaxon sounded. Elizabeth stood up immediately, abandoning her cup. "Stackhouse's team is the only one out, and they just left," she said and headed out, moving fast.

John started to get up, saw Rodney's expression and sat down again. "Yeah."

"Thank you." Rodney's tone was dry. "But, if there's something going on, I suppose we ought to be there, if only to counter Colonel Borden."

"There is that," John agreed, relieved and stood up.

Rodney took one last bite and got up, gave him a seriously unreadable look and started toward the control room.

The unreadable look bothered him, but by the time they reached the control room, Daniel Jackson was arguing with O'Neill, who had apparently just come through the gate.

"Uh oh," Rodney muttered. "This isn't going to be pretty."

Jackson's voice rose. "But Jack, we've just found this."

"Daniel, you've had a week," O'Neill said and looked over Jackson's shoulder to see Rodney and John. "Ah, just the man I wanted to see."

John pointed at Rodney, saw O'Neill shake his head. "Damn," he said.

Rodney's expression, already unsettling, got worse.

Jackson wasn't taking interruption easily. "Jack, there's an entire cache—"

"Later," O'Neill said firmly. "We'll discuss this later. Major, I've got a situation that needs resolving. Dr. Weir, I'm guessing you'll want to be in on this discussion."

"John, Rodney," Elizabeth said calmly, "The briefing room."

O'Neill sighed. "Really, there's no reason for Dr. McKay—"

"General," Elizabeth said pleasantly. "Dr. McKay is not only one of my department heads, he's also the man who can determine precisely how much of the 'gate ZPM is going to be drained by this little trip. Dr. Jackson was scheduled to be here for three weeks."

O'Neill glared at her, but finally nodded.

This, John thought, was not a good sign. Still, he went to the briefing room, sat down and waited while O'Neill and Jackson had some more heated discussion outside the door.

Elizabeth stood near the door, her arms folded, nodded at O'Neill when he finally came in, his expression less than pleased. "Major, I'm afraid your family situation has gotten a little more heated."

John swallowed a little bubble of amusement. "I guess the letter didn't help."

"Oh, it helped. It helped convince them that we've got some nefarious purpose in not allowing you to come home and see them." O'Neill's tone was sour. "The Pentagon is sooo not happy right now."

John shrugged, looked at Elizabeth. "So you want me to write another letter?

"No," O'Neill said, "I want you to come back through the gate for a visit. Because the Pentagon wants this situation resolved, I'm empowered to offer you temporary diplomatic status as a representative of Atlantis which means you get a round trip."

"A round trip." John blinked, glanced at Elizabeth again. "To do what?"

"To talk to your sisters," O'Neill growled. "Dammit, those are the most stubborn women I've ever met, and considering I've worked with Colonel Carter for nearly ten years, that's saying a lot."

John wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He glanced around again. Elizabeth's mouth twitched slightly, but Rodney's expression could have been carved out of stone. "What good is that going to do? I show up, tell 'em I'm fine and then disappear again? You really expect me to believe that the Air Force is going to let me come back here?"

"Basically, yeah." O'Neill held his hands up. "Look, I'm giving you my personal guarantee that you're coming back here. And the only reason I can do that is that your sisters and their goddamn attorneys have got the Pentagon brass' underwear collectively in a knot."

John shook his head. "And I don't get that, either."

O'Neill sighed. "Dammit, Major, your father had a shitload of friends in high places, and those women have called every goddamn favor in that any one of them ever owed your father. Trust me, this is an issue."

"You know, General, if you really want to take John back to resolve this, I think it's wise for Daniel to stay here. An exchange of sorts." Elizabeth's tone was mild.

O'Neill looked at her silently for a very long moment. "All right," he said evenly. "Fair enough."

John opened his mouth, closed it again. Did he want to go home? Yes and no, he supposed, and still found it boggling that either of his sisters were kicking up that much of a fuss. "Okay," he said.

Rodney gave him a sharp look. He ignored this. "So, can Dr. McKay come with me?"

O'Neill and Elizabeth both stared at him. After a moment, O'Neill coughed, cleared his throat. "Dr. McKay is a Canadian citizen, Major, I can't guarantee that he'll be able to return."

Well, fuck. John did look at Rodney then, only to find that Rodney was glaring at him. "What?"

Rodney's mouth flattened into a thin line and he looked away.

"And I don't think we'd want to take that chance, General," Elizabeth said smoothly.

John frowned. "But you're guaranteeing that I can come back."

"I'm leaving Daniel here as hostage for that guarantee," O'Neill said, a little grumpily. "And if it wasn't for the fact that I know he'll be happier than a pig in mud, I wouldn't agree to that, either, Dr. Weir."

Elizabeth's mouth twitched again. "Understood, General."

"So," O'Neill said and looked at John. "Let's go, then."

"Now?" Rocked, John looked at Rodney. "Right now?"

"No time like the present," O'Neill told him and got up. "Both of them are in Colorado Springs, flew 'em in here to talk to them myself, but wasn't making a lot of headway."

Rodney got up suddenly, nodded at Elizabeth and left the briefing room. John rose, hesitated. "Give me a minute, okay? Please?"

O'Neill arched an eyebrow. "Sure."

John went out, had to break into a run to catch up. "Rodney."

Rodney stopped, turned to look at him. "You'll want your coat. It's February in Colorado Springs."

John's stomach was entirely upset now, and he wasn't sure why. "Rodney?"

"What?" Almost expressionless.

"I'm coming back."

Rodney's face changed. "Of course you are." Fiercely.

John's knees felt wobbly. "Okay, let's get my coat. Is there anything you want from Colorado?"

"Not from Colorado, no." Rodney started walking again, a little briskly. "If you were going to be—well, I'd have you check in on Werner, but that's pointless to worry about." He glanced at John. "It's too bad about your hair, but at least it's grown back."

John reached up. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"It's a little uneven," Rodney smiled suddenly. "There's nothing really wrong with it, John. I like it like that. I'm just not sure the Air Force would agree."

"Well, I'm doing them a favor, so fuck 'em."

"No thank you."

Once in their quarters, Rodney insisted on finding a pair of gloves for him in addition to his jacket, insisted that he put on his long underwear, and then shoved him down on the bed for a fast and dirty blow job when he took his pants off to do it.

John, naturally, wasn't about to leave without returning the favor, and so, when General O'Neill arrived at the door of their quarters, he'd just gotten dressed again.

O'Neill, whatever he might have thought, was gravely polite to Rodney. "I'll take good care of him, McKay."

Rodney didn't look happy, but nodded. "And we'll take good care of Dr. Jackson."

They seemed to understand one another, John thought, a little irritated. "I'll be back, what, tomorrow?"

"In a day or two," O'Neill agreed. "You may want to allow for at least one day, Major. They haven't seen you in, what, several years?"

John felt a little guilty about that. "Well, yeah."

"Do what you need to do," Rodney said, looking at him. "And be careful."

O'Neill's expression was sour. "Not to worry, we'll be joined at the hip."

John rolled his eyes. "Right."

It wasn't until they were on the way back to the control room that it hit John. He was going back to Earth. He was going to step through that gate and be on Earth, in the SGC. A wave of dizziness hit, and he had to stop when they reached the stairs, hold up a hand. "Sorry, wait a minute, sir."

O'Neill turned, his expression irritated, but it eased quickly. "You all right?"

"Just a little weirded out." John tried on a smile, but it didn't fit really well. "It's strange, that's all."

"Yeah, I bet." O'Neill waited. "Deep breath. You don't need to hyperventilate when you go through."

John did manage to smile then. "Yeah, I hear that."

O'Neill waited with the first evidence of patience John had ever seen in him.

"John, go carefully, give your family our best wishes." Elizabeth was calm again.

"Anything I can get anybody?" he asked lightly, and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket to hide the fact that they were shaking a little. He wished he'd kissed Rodney one more time, he wished Rodney could have come with him, and he had the most desperate case of nerves he'd had since his first solo flight. "Flatware? Music? DVDs? A new outfit?"

"Just yourself," Elizabeth said and smiled, recalling the echoes. "In one piece."

"Count on it," he said and then the chevrons locked.

His hands were cold, even inside his pockets. John took a breath in and stepped through the wormhole, stepped out onto the ramp in the SGC. It seemed dull and almost primitive compared to Atlantis, and the sense of dislocation made his knees wobble again.

"Okay?" O'Neill's voice was surprisingly kind. "You want a minute?"

"Coffee would be good," he said rustily. "Sir."

"Coffee can be had." O'Neill put a hand on his shoulder, guided him down past the armed soldiers at the foot of the ramp. "Stand down," he told them irritably.

"General," said a dark-haired major in blues. "Thank God. I've been fielding calls all morning."

"Not to worry, Davis," O'Neill said. "As you can see, I've got him here and in the flesh."

"Yes, General," Davis agreed. "All right, I'll have a car ready for you."

"Hey, could I ask for a favor, General?" The idea popped into John's head, full-blown and totally insane.

O'Neill looked at him, frowned. "You can ask," he said.

John grinned. "This could actually be pretty easy, sir."

"This way, Major," Davis said, and eyed them both. "Easy in what way?"

"I wish you hadn't asked that," O'Neill said, resigned. "Up the stairs, please, and believe it or not, that office at the top of the stairs is mine. We'll get you something less…unique to wear, Major."

"Easy as in not too difficult, I think," John told Davis. "It involves a cat."

"I knew I was going to be sorry you asked," O'Neill said and sighed.

Davis looked puzzled.

John grinned again.

 

One haircut later, wearing a flight suit with bogus patches and his real rank, and a lovely, warm, Air Force issue parka, John got out of an official Air Force car in a motel parking lot. O'Neill got out of the car on the other side, knocked on the nearest door. After a moment, it opened and O'Neill gestured John forward.

He felt oddly shy and very nervous, and Marilyn looked a lot different then she'd looked last time he'd seen her. Her hair was short now, short and dark like his, but silvered liberally because she was, Christ, nearly nineteen years older than he was. He'd forgotten how much she looked like their father and thus, like him. "Hi," he said awkwardly and then her eyes widened and she gasped, threw herself forward and wrapped him up in a hug.

"Marilyn?" His voice cracked a little. "I'm okay, I'm sorry you were worried, and I'm sorry I wasn't there when Dad—" He had to stop, clear his throat and hugged her back. "I'm okay."

"Oh, Johnny, we've been so damned worried." Her voice was muffled.

"Johnny!" Jan's voice and she was there suddenly. She was nearly as tall as he was, and had her mother's light brown hair, but oh, she looked like their father, too, he'd forgotten how much. "Oh, my God!"

He was released and then recaptured. "Hi, Jan." He felt his throat clog up again, hugged her hard. "I'm okay. I'm really okay, honestly. I was—"

"He was injured in the line of duty," O'Neill said, sounding patient. "And can we move this inside?"

John cleared his throat, Jan let go of him, and then they were all four standing awkwardly inside the room. "I'm sorry," O'Neill said gently. "But it's unwise for me to leave, so I'd suggest you use the next room for private conversation."

Marilyn gave O'Neill a look that could have peeled paint. "Thank you, General." Frigid tone, and she pointed to the connecting door. "Here, Johnny, we can talk in here."

John wished to hell she wouldn't call him Johnny. He followed Marilyn into the next room, found himself flanked by Jan. "Um, the General said he gave you my letter."

"Yes, he did." Jan sounded irritated. "Of course, he wouldn't tell us anything else, so for all we knew they'd forced you to write it."

John wasn't sure what to say to that. "Um, no, not at all. Wasn't it sealed?"

Marilyn sighed. "Jan was just being a bit paranoid, but frankly, I had to agree, we needed to see that you were all right."

John took a chair, and Jan sat on the foot of one of the beds. Marilyn rested a hip on the table near his chair, reached out and touched his face. "You've gotten so thin, Johnny."

Actually, he felt like he was filling out again, but given the circumstances, he didn't think pointing that out would be wise. "Well, I, er, I did get hurt, like the General said. I've still kind of on the convalescent list, not back on full duty." He shrugged, smiled a little nervously. "But I'm sorry I couldn't be in touch, and I'm sorry I wasn't there when Dad died." His voice clogged again. He cleared his throat. "General O'Neill said it was quick."

"Quicker than he deserved," Jan said quietly, with an undertone of bitterness. "John, are you really all right?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm doing something really important. I can't tell you what it is, I wish I could, but it's important, and I'm happy." John glanced at the open door, bit his lip. "It's not exactly the standard military sort of thing."

"No guns and shooting?" Marilyn's voice was soft. "Johnny, he's dead now. You can live your own life."

John almost laughed. "I am, honestly, Marilyn. Honestly. You wouldn't believe it, but—" He bit his lip again. "I'm happy, honestly. And I'm good, I'm doing work I love, I've got somebody in my life who makes me happy, and good friends."

"So why all this secrecy then?" Jan asked skeptically.

"Tell me about her," Marilyn said, at almost the same time.

John bit his lip again. "Uh, not her. Him."

There was a silence.

"Oh." Jan was obviously startled. "Oh."

He waited a heartbeat, his throat tightening, but they processed it, and all Jan did was purse her lips thoughtfully before smiling.

Marilyn hugged him again. "Well, that's living your own life, Johnny." Lilt of laughter underlying her tone. "And in the military, too. I know the law's changed, I just didn't expect things to have changed so quickly."

"It's a long story," John said, shaky suddenly. "But yeah. I'm tryin', Marilyn, honestly." He looked at both of them. "I can't believe how upset you've got the Air Force."

"Hey, we were worried." Jan grinned suddenly. "You dork, did you think we'd just go merrily on when we didn't even know if you were dead or alive? Especially when the Air Force started stonewalling us."

John flushed. "Well, I know we haven't always been in touch."

"You're still our brother," Marilyn told him mildly. "Whatever our parents screwed up. I suppose we've gotten you in terrible trouble."

"Well, not exactly." John grinned again. "At least not that I know of. They're just relieved I agreed to come home, um, to talk to you."

"To calm the pit bulls down," Marilyn told him and rolled her eyes. "So how did you get hurt and what happened?"

John swallowed hard again, freshly reminded of mine fields that might be hidden. "Well, I had a sort of accident, fractured skull, broken bones. Took a while to heal up right. But I'm good, really good. Just a little problem with migraines once in a while."

Marilyn nodded, touched his cheek again. "Oh, Johnny, I can't tell you how good it is to see you again. I suppose you can't stay long."

"I have to stay on base," he said apologetically. "But if you're willing to stay in visiting officers' quarters, I can stay a day or two."

Marilyn and Jan exchanged a look and Marilyn nodded. "Okay. We have some things for you. I wasn't sure we'd see you, but I figured it couldn't hurt to bring them."

Baffled, John looked from one to the other. "What kind of things?"

Jan chuckled. "Oh, you'll see."

John shook his head, freshly bewildered. "I still can't believe you did this." He grinned suddenly. "Not that I'm complaining. It's great to see you both."

Marilyn laughed softly, but her eyes were too bright.

Jan sighed and got up, came over and kissed him on the forehead. "Someone's got to look out after our little brother, and we knew Dad was a loss when it came right down to it." Her fingers ruffled his hair. "And we found your letter in his things, so between the two of us we had this whole French Foreign Legion thing going on in our heads."

"That's in the desert," John said and got up. "Let me, uh, talk to General O'Neill, see about getting us moved back to the base. Hey, how are the kids?"

"Oh, don't worry, we'll tell you all about them." Marilyn's smile took the threat out of it.

The kids. Jesus, Marilyn's daughter was only seven years younger than he was, and her boy had to be Ford's age. Still a lot boggled, he stepped into the next room to find O'Neill watching ESPN. "They said yeah to the base, sir."

O'Neill stood up, nodded. "Good. Excellent. Let's get going, then, because I'll feel a lot better when my people can keep a closer eye on things." Drily.

That, apparently, was that as far as O'Neill was concerned.

Except, of course, for the outstanding oddity of having a family he hadn't expected to have, at least not on any serious level.

That was nearly as mind boggling as being in a coma for nine fucking weeks, but a lot more pleasant.


	9. Chapter 9

In the end, John was there two days, and landed back in the SGC with threats to the Air Force if someone didn't keep in touch ringing in his ears, the most recent photographs of one niece, one nephew, one husband, and one significant other, not to mention the sister associated with each. He also had a photograph of the three of them, courtesy of one of his bodyguards and the digital camera he'd gotten once his request to shop at the base exchange had been granted. While he was there, of course, he'd discovered that relatively speaking, he was fairly well off financially—the joys of back pay—and he'd gotten a number of specialty items to haul back, not to mention a healthy bundle of supplies for one feline named Werner, presently regarding the gateroom with no good will through the openings in a pet carrier.

Werner had been through something of an adventure already, given that Rodney's neighbor had gotten a new boyfriend with a cat allergy and Werner had ended up in a shelter, where Davis had somehow located him in the nick of time.

John found himself sympathizing a lot with Werner's irritation and mistrust once he was back in the SGC; getting everything lined up in the gateroom made his gut unknot again.

"I'm not really sure this is a good idea," Davis muttered, looking at Werner's carrier. "I mean, essentially, you're taking an alien animal through the gate to an ecosystem that hasn't got cats."

"At ease, Davis," O'Neill said, coming in from the control room, "He's neutered, and he'll be in a city, and the damn cat's had more immunizations than I've had in my entire career. That's probably why he's cranky."

Davis, sporting a bandage on his forearm, directed a less than friendly look at the carrier. "No doubt." He held out his hand. "Good luck, Major."

John shook Davis' hand. "Thanks. For everything."

He got a phantom smile at that. "You're welcome, Major. Give my best to the Atlantis personnel."

"Will do."

"Slight change of plan, Major." John looked over to see O'Neill geared up and standing next to the carrier and the Fred. "We're taking an alternate form of transportation."

John's heart thumped a little too hard. "What?"

"Ship." O'Neill pointed upward and then the world dissolved in light, there was a rushing sound and then he was standing somewhere else, somewhere with Colonel Carter and the big guy with the gold tattoo. "Sorry," O'Neill said, as if things like this happened every day. "Didn't get a chance to brief you on this when it all came up."

"We're on a ship?" John eyed O'Neill warily. "That wasn't in the original plan."

The big guy arched an eyebrow at him.

"Well, these things happen." O'Neill said comfortably. "We're a little sparing of the ZPM right now, Major, we've gotten some less than welcome news about an old acquaintance, Anubis."

John considered that. "Goa'uld?" he guessed.

"Goa'uld," O'Neill told him less than cheerfully. "So we're being a little sparing with the ZPM. But, Carter and Teal'c came up with this Goa'uld ship a while back, and Carter, being Carter, came up with a way to harness in some Ancient technology, and voila, our chariot. And since I like keeping my word, not to mention we need to collect Daniel, I thought you might enjoy some flight time."

Carter glanced up from the controls, grinned at him. "Major. Welcome aboard. Looks like you've got plenty of supplies."

John grinned, glanced at the FRED, loaded with items requested officially by Elizabeth. "Hey, that's not all mine."

O'Neill gestured. "Might as well make yourself comfortable, Major. It's not as fast as gate travel, but we'll be there in about thirty-six hours or so." He leaned over and peered at Werner. "Probably a good idea to make this guy comfortable, too."

Oh, hell. Good thing he'd gotten feline supplies. "Is there someplace I can, uh, take him and let him out of the carrier?"

"Sure." Carter got up, grinned and picked up the carrier. "Might want to grab some of those supplies."

Yeah, no kidding. John put down the duffel bag he was carrying, and grabbed a carton with various necessities—from Werner's point of view, anyway—and followed her.

Needless to say, Werner was less than thrilled about the arrangements, and sulked in the back of the carrier. Suddenly inspired, John dug out the gloves Rodney had insisted he take and stuck them in the carrier. Surely they'd still have some of Rodney's scent on them, and Werner did deign to sniff them before curling up with his tail wrapped around him.

"Yours?" Carter asked.

"Rodney's," he said and risked holding his fingers out. Werner sniffed those, too, but went back to the gloves. After a minute, apparently, he remembered the scent and put both front paws on the gloves, kneading them and purring rustily. "Cool."

"Let me guess, Rodney's gloves?" Carter grinned. "Good thinking. Anyway, he can move around in here, just don't let him get out. The General's a dog person."

"Ah, a bigot." John grinned back. "Me, I like 'em both, but for different reasons."

Carter laughed again, rose smoothly. "Well, when you get him settled, come on out. I'll show you the boards."

John grimaced. "I'd love to, but technically, I'm not cleared for flying since, ah, you know."

She nodded. "Well, Teal'c isn't going to let either of us take first seat, so I think it's safe enough."

John nodded and settled Werner's water and food near the carrier. "Sounds good to me."

She waited and when they returned, O'Neill arched an eyebrow at him. "Ready for the grand tour?"

"There's a grand tour?"

"Carter, you didn't give him the grand tour?"

"No, sir, I thought you might enjoy doing that yourself." She smirked at John.

"Well, in that case." O'Neill rose, pointed to a seat behind Carter's. "A little something you might appreciate, Major."

"Weapons," Carter told him, "Ancient tech."

"Have a seat," O'Neill invited.

John gave O'Neill a narrow look. "You planned this, sir."

"No." O'Neill looked slightly wounded. "I swear, I just found out about Anubis, damn him. But hey, if we're going to be on a ship heading for Pegasus, why is it a bad thing to have somebody with the right gene to activate the weapons?"

John shook his head, sighed and took the indicated chair. Nothing happened.

Carter shook her head back at him, gave the general a reproving look. "It's all right, we don't have a live connection at the moment. It uses a fair amount of power, needless to say."

"Naturally," John agreed. "So, thirty-six hours?"

"More or less." O'Neill stretched out in his own seat. "The facilities are down the hall, too."

John sighed. "Would anybody object to my taking a nap in the other room? I haven't gotten a lot of sleep the last two days."

"Be my guest." O'Neill waved. "Carter, I don't suppose we've got sleeping gear."

"Same room as Werner," Carter said, smiling faintly. "Piled against the wall, Major. At least you can be mostly comfortable."

"Thanks, ma'am." He got up. "Sir."

"Get some sleep," O'Neill told him.

It was weird, being on a ship that wasn't a jumper, that wasn't his. But the room controls were easy enough to figure out, and there was a sleeping bag and a padded mat to spread it on, so he laid it out near the cat carrier and crashed out in no time. John slept hard, woke finally when someone patted his shoulder firmly.

"Wha?" Blurrily and he squinted up at O'Neill.

"You okay?" O'Neill asked kindly. "You've slept about eighteen hours, you were starting to worry me. A lot."

"I'm okay." John rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, just tired. Had a lot to catch up on with my sisters, not a lot of sleep."

"Go back to sleep if you want," O'Neill told him. "Or, if you're hungry, we've got sandwiches and snacks. Carter does pretty well packing the snacks."

"Um, sure. Any coffee?" John leaned up on one elbow. "And where are those facilities?" Now that he was awake, he couldn't ignore his bladder.

O'Neill grinned, stood up again. "Come on, I'll point you in the direction and see if we can't get a fresh pot brewing before you come out."

"Thank you, sir." He pushed himself all the way up. He was a little stiff, and Werner regarded O'Neill without much pleasure from the carrier opening. "Hey, buddy. How ya doing?"

"He was sleeping on you when I came in." O'Neill shook his head. "Cats."

That was a good sign, John thought. He hoped. Reaching out, he scratched Werner's ears, hauled himself up to follow O'Neill out.

The facilities were odd, but obviously made for humans, or as near to human as made no difference. That was welcome, as was the cool water he used to wash the sleep out of his eyes. When he found his way to the flight deck, the big guy, Teal'c, handed him a Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee. "Thanks," he told him.

Teal'c inclined his head with unnerving formality. "You are welcome. There are sandwiches, both turkey and ham, and a variety of additional snacks, such as potato chips and snack bars."

"Turkey is good," he said and Teal'c handed him a packaged sandwich. "Thanks."

"You are welcome," Teal'c repeated and returned to the first seat, waiting with an ironic expression for O'Neill to get out of his way.

John had to bite back a grin at that, saw Carter doing the same.

"He gets so finicky," O'Neill muttered, going past him.

John took a bite of the sandwich for safety's sake.

"General," Carter's voice was flat. "We've got something coming in fast."

"Goa'uld?"

"No, sir, energy signature's very different, and—well, we're in Pegasus, sir, and this matches what the Daedelus recorded."

John's stomach rolled over and he put the sandwich back in the package. "Wraith."

"A hive ship," Carter agreed. "No, two of them."

Fuck. "Are they coming for us?"

Carter shook her head. "No, we're using Ancient tech to cloak." She glanced up. "But the two ships are taking up position in orbit around the fifth planet in this solar system."

"I knew you were going to say that," John told her grimly. "They're culling."

"So it would seem." Teal'c's voice was somber.

"We can't just pass this by." John looked at O'Neill. "What kind of weapons do we have?"

"I'm not sure we've got enough to take on two hive ships," Carter told him sharply.

"Make that three," O'Neill said, leaning in over her shoulder, "And Carter, Teal'c, we'd better get the hell out of the way or we're going to have a nasty collision."

The ship moved and John could *feel* the shift; the inertial dampeners on this thing weren't nearly as good as the ones he was used to and he had to grab the back of the seat next to the weapons console. Big mistake: the console flared to life this time, and oh, fuck, something fired, giving their position away.

"Bets are off, Carter, get us the hell out of here." O'Neill's voice was harsh, and he took hold of John, steadied him. "Major, you may as well sit down and do whatever the hell you need to do. Teal'c, I'm taking the standard weapons board."

The ship shifted again, and John grabbed the armrests, held on long enough to reach the console and the fucking thing was higher powered than the jumper. Even scarier, his board overrode the pilot's, he was plugged all the way in through his fingertips, and all he could see was the 3-D display in front of him.

It was like lightning, so far from the weapons in the jumper it was like comparing a damn water pistol to a nuclear missile; John could only see the console, and the power was fucking awesome and completely terrifying and he was riding the lightning, riding it through vacuum and blackness and cold and it was like he was out of his body, observing his hands dancing over the console, way out of body.

The third hive ship took several serious hits, slowly lit up with a sullen scarlet glow and then disintegrated equally slowly. John rode that lightning, followed the flames and disintegration down, losing his place and seeing the bodies and body parts floating in the airless void…

…He's under fire, and he takes the chopper in low and fast and sees the three men hunkered down behind scant shelter, and he's going in, setting her down as light as a butterfly, hardly touching the ground and they run for the chopper, heads down and running low and when he lifts off, he feels the red hot pain in his hip, doesn't dare look at the moment, focuses on getting them out…

…the pain is so bad, so fucking bad, and then a boot hits the side of his head hard and he greys all the way out, surfaces to realize that he's dying, that he can't feel anything except the pain in his face and he knows he's dying, dammit, and Rodney is going to be *so* pissed off at him and he can't explain and can't say goodbye…

…the second ship starts moving away from the planet toward them, almost lumbering in space, slow and ungainly, but he knows *just* what to do, synapses fire, thought takes shape and the hull of the hive ship flares white hot and then red, like blood spatter, and the ship just comes apart with awful, majestic explosions…

…his blood is spattered everywhere, fucking everywhere, and he can't move and it's hard to breathe, to think, and all he can do is hope that Rodney knows, that Rodney knows how much John loves him, how much John needs him, and that even if that's not consolation, it will give Rodney something to hang on to in the first awful stretch of time after he's dead…

…and he's bleeding way too much, but they're taking fire, so all he can do is pack his hip with his jacket and hope he can get to it before he can't fly, and he's starting to get dizzy…

…and his head feels like it's caught in the most horrendous torture device ever devised, but the first ship is firing and he can't stop, can't take his fingers from the console, and he's rocking and rolling with the ship, he's doing things no ship of this size and without dampeners should be able to do, and then they skate under the much bigger ship after avoiding or neutralizing the Wraith missiles, and he sends himself out with the drones and missiles, and finds the weakest spots in the Wraith shields, hammers through them, and then in through the heart of the ship, the core of the engines, and it gradually crumbles like the other two, leaving only the dart ships to deal with and those are easy, so easy and somebody else is helping…

…and the floor is cool against his cheek, and all he can do is pray that if there is a God, that Rodney isn't the one who finds him, and it's harder to breathe, and he can't move, he can't see, and he's sinking under…

"Easy, Major," O'Neill's voice was very soft. "Just lie still."

John's head felt like he'd been beaten again and he was lying on the cold floor of the ship. "My duffel," he rasped. "The injector."

"Carter," O'Neill barked.

The sound made his head worse, and John had to close his eyes, breathe shallowly through his mouth.

"I know how to use these, sir. Let's get his sleeve off."

John tried to help as he could, and felt the sting on the back of his upper arm. The pain eased only slightly, but it was better than nothing. "Thanks." Faintly and he had to close his eyes against the light. "Gotta wait an hour for the next one."

"Carter, give me a hand here. I'm going to try and get you back to where it's quiet, Major. And we'll put the lights down."

"Did we get them, or did I dream that?" John wasn't entirely sure what had happened.

"We got 'em. You got the hive ships, and Teal'c and I took care of a lot of the darts once you passed out."

That reminded John too sharply of Rodney, but in a good way. "Thanks for not saying the other thing," he said and laughed crazily.

They didn't say anything, but O'Neill got him up on his feet and steadied him when he would have fallen again, and Carter was on his other side, and somehow he was safely lying down on a sleeping bag, his head hurting so badly he wanted to just sleep. He put one arm over his head, and heard murmuring beyond him.

"Major, I'm going to give you a shot for pain," Carter said softly. "Because I don't think this Imitrex is going to kick in."

"Okay." John didn't want to have to think about it. This time, the needle hurt, not just a little poke, and he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. After that, though, it was a great long slide downhill into la-la land, and he drifted, sank deeper, and only woke when O'Neill shook him again. "Izzit an hour?"

"More than. How's the head?"

Beneath the drugs, it felt like hell. "Not so hot," John slurred. "I dunno, you think I should risk it?"

"I think Weir's gonna shoot me," O'Neill said, his tone matter of fact. "But the second shot, that's up to you. You wanna take the chance? I don't know enough about this stuff and we're still out of communication range with Atlantis."

"Better wait," John sighed and closed his eyes again. "No ice?"

"Cold packs, will that do?"

"Yeah, back of my neck and head."

O'Neill's hand briefly cupped his neck. "You've got it. I'll be right back."

John sank under again, woke at the touch of cold and sighed in relief. "Thanks." Still blurry. "We almost there yet?"

"Got about eight more hours," O'Neill said. "Sleep if you can, John. Oscar's pissed at me."

John almost smiled. "Werner. Like Heisenberg. Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle."

"Physics." O'Neill sounded amused. "I'll check on you later."

"Thanks." He closed his eyes again, sank.

When John woke the next time, his head felt better, but not great, and Werner was tucked under his arm, having evidently decided that he was surrogate for Rodney after all.

"Major?" Carter crouched near the sleeping bag. "How's the head?"

"A little better."

"I think it's been long enough we can risk another injection of Imitrex." She held up an injector. "You've been asleep about nine hours, so you're in good shape."

"Yeah, okay." John pushed himself up carefully, took the injector from her and popped himself with it. "How far are we?"

"Not long, maybe an hour or so out." Carter held a cup of water out. "Try and drink some of this, Major."

John took it, drank some. "Thanks. Are we close enough for comms?"

"Well, we're getting there, but given our encounter with the hive ships, we're thinking radio silence might be smarter until we get into the solar system."

"Good point." John drank more. The worst pain lifted, even though he still felt groggy. Werner looked up at him, clearly annoyed by his movement. "Sorry, buddy. We'll be there soon, and you can give Rodney all kinds of hell."

Carter grinned, scratched Werner's ears and Werner let her. "He probably will."

"Cats are like that." John felt exhausted again. "Man, I'm wiped."

"Well, if you want, just relax. Everything's under control." She scratched under Werner's chin and he lifted his head up for more. "You were incredible back there, Major. You interfaced with the boards like nothing I've ever seen before, even Colonel O'Neill, when he still had that database in his brain. I didn't know that ship could move like that."

John flushed. "I, ah, don't remember, Colonel. It was sort of like a serious acid trip, flashes back and forward." He hated admitting it.

"Well, part of you knew it," she said mildly. "Get some rest."

"Maybe for a little while." He drank the last of the water and stretched back out. The last of the drug let him doze for a while longer, but eventually he woke up for real and got up. Werner took offense at this and went back into the carrier, which let him leave the room and head back down to the deck.

O'Neill looked up from reading a paperback and sat up straight. "How's the head?"

"It's okay. Where are we?"

"Getting there. We just talked to Dr. Weir. We'll be landing on the mainland, and she's gonna have jumpers to pick us up. And she's pissed, needless to say." He grimaced. "But I figure once we explain stuff, she'll go with it."

John rubbed the back of his head. "Everything all right there?"

"Yup. Good news, too, Daniel and your science team found another ZPM, this one working, not deconstructed."

"Great." He hoped to God Elizabeth wasn't planning on giving it to O'Neill.

"We're here," Carter said, and glanced over her shoulder. "Teal'c's going to orbit once so we can locate the landing site near the Athosian settlement and then you'll just about be home."

John stood behind her, marveling a little. Less than two days by ship. He'd still rather do the gate thing, but hey, in a pinch, this wasn't bad. Especially if the Wraith could be skipped.

It still took too damn long to land, though, and John was practically delirious when he got off the damn ship carrying Werner and his duffel. "I've got stuff," he told Ford, whose grin faded almost immediately. "What's the matter?"

"You look terrible," Ford said bluntly. "We'll get the stuff, you go on in and sit down."

"Jesus, I'm fine."

"Major, you haven't seen yourself."

Teyla stopped dead, staring at him, when she got off the jumper. "What happened?"

"We ran into some hive ships," O'Neill said uneasily. "He had to use the weapons."

"Are your eyes bleeding?" Teyla asked, horrified.

"They're just really, really bloodshot," O'Neill assured him. "Really."

They felt dry, and John was glad the day was overcast, but otherwise, they felt fine. "Stop worrying, you guys. I'm good. I just had a headache. I'm okay now."

Teyla nodded, but she took the duffel and then exclaimed over Werner. That got them past the rocky and irritating let's all worry about John moment, and soon the 'stuff' and the jumper were airborne with Stackhouse at the stick.

"Man, only four days gone and I feel like it's been months." John sat back happily in the seat beside Teyla. "So is Dr. McKay still out at the dig with Dr. Jackson?"

"Yeah, he was when we left," Ford told him, "But Dr. Weir's calling them all back now that you guys are here."

John grinned. "Cool. Cuz Werner here's a surprise."

"He certainly is," Ford said, and grinned. "I can't wait until Dr. Weir sees him. What kind of name is Werner for a cat, anyway?"

"He's a cat belonging to an astrophysicist," John said. "So, naturally he's named after a physicist."

"Okay." Ford laughed. "Welcome home, we were starting to get just a little worried."

Lingering headache or not, he wanted to laugh out loud. "God, it's good to be home."

"It is good to have you home," Teyla told him and smiled.

Home. John couldn't stop smiling, not even once he carried Werner off the jumper and met Elizabeth, who stopped dead and stared at him. "Get Dr. Beckett," she told Peter, who had followed her into the bay.

"I'm fine," he said, exasperated. "Honestly. We ran into some trouble, I used the super whammy Ancient weapon, got a migraine, but I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced. "John, your eyes—"

"They're bloodshot. Hey, it was a helluva headache, Elizabeth, and Colonel Carter had to shoot me up with drugs on top of the stuff Doc gave me." He smiled hopefully. "Rodney still out?"

"Yes, but he's going to be on his way soon." Her mouth quirked. "You're sure you're all right."

"I'm sure." John looked up as the second jumper came in. "Look, can I split? I want to get Werner settled before things get too loud."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Werner?" She seemed to notice the carrier for the first time. "You brought an animal back?" Baffled tone.

"Not just any animal," John said. "Rodney's cat."

"Rodney's cat." She sounded stunned.

He used O'Neill's argument. "He's had more immunizations than I've had in my entire career, he's neutered, he'll be in the city, not on the mainland, he can't cause ecological trouble."

Her mouth twitched. "I see you've thought about this."

"Yup." He arched an eyebrow. "So, you mind if I take off? I can come back for a briefing once I get this character taken care of."

Now she really did look amused. "Go and rest, John, and welcome home."

"Thank you," he said fervently and split before the other jumper landed. Clearly amused, Ford and Teyla followed with his personal 'stuff', both of them laughing about Weir's shocked expression.


	10. Chapter 10

ohn had a chance to get Werner set up in the seaward bedroom, take a shower, shave, and then sprawl on the floor luring Werner out of the carrier with bits of smoked turkey before then the door opened and someone came in, someone he presumed was Rodney from the amount of muttering and swearing going on. Smiling, he waited, watched as Werner tilted his head and scented the air.

"John!" Rodney sounded simultaneously grumpy and pleased. "Jesus, I was ready to—what in, oh, my God."

John tipped his head back. "Surprise."

Rodney was staring open-mouthed at the cat. "Werner?"

Werner stretched and scented again, walked over to Rodney and sniffed delicately before turning his back and began grooming himself with every evidence of unconcern.

Rodney looked from the cat to John. "My God, John, what happened? Elizabeth said that you ran into the Wraith."

He leaned up and kissed Rodney when he got close enough to grab Rodney's shirt and tug him down. "I'm fine, we're fine, it's done, and we can scratch three more hive ships off the list."

Rodney kissed him, kissed him again. "Jesus, I thought O'Neill was pulling something, I couldn't figure out why it was taking so long."

"Yeah, they've got troubles of their own, I guess."

Annoyed that Rodney was not noticing that he was being ignored, Werner promptly wormed his way between them. "I can't believe you did this," Rodney said, stunned, and he rubbed Werner's chin, his eyes as wide as a little kid's.

"Werner had an adventure. Your neighbor had a new boyfriend who didn't like cats, she got rid of him, and Major Davis at the SGC found him at the shelter." John scratched Werner's chin. "So naturally, I persuaded the general Werner had to come back with me."

Rodney shook his head. "You're a lunatic," he said, but his tone was too affectionate to take seriously. "Jesus, I was worried about you."

"You don't need to be worried now," John told him cheerfully. "I brought back a truckload of stuff. Jesus, you ought to see the back pay I had.

"I'm perfectly happy just to see you," Rodney told him and sank back on his heels, staring at him. "You came back."

"Of course I came back." He felt a flash of irritation. "Did you really think I wouldn't?"

"Not exactly," Rodney said and kissed him again, presumably to forestall an argument.

Okay, John could go with that, especially with Rodney's fingers sliding up under his shirt and saying welcome home very nicely to his skin. Very, very nicely, and they ended up tangled on the floor with Werner on the bed, regarding them with a jaundiced air. One of Rodney's arms was under John's neck, Rodney's leg was between John's, and Rodney's other arm was wrapped around John's waist rather snugly.

"Hi," John said, when he could breathe again. "Miss me?"

"Not at all," Rodney told him. "How did things go?"

"Weird, but good." John sighed comfortably. "I've got pics, sort of. Digital. I had to get Major Davis to dig up an old personnel photo of you to show my sisters."

Rodney's expression was perplexed. "Of me?"

"Yeah, it's probably going to be the only introduction they get for a while."

"You told them about—" Rodney's voice was perplexed, too.

"Yeah." John managed to shrug, no easy thing to do while lying on the floor tangled up with Rodney. "Of course."

Slow, very slow, sort of goofy smile. "You lunatic."

He smirked and got kissed for it. No complaints there, he drew that out for a while until they were both breathing a little heavily.

"There's a perfectly good bed there," Rodney muttered.

"There's a cat on it."

"So?" Rodney arched an eyebrow. "You're the one who brought him back, you may as well get used to it."

John considered that. "Good point." He rubbed the sole of his foot over Rodney's calf. "So you were off with the General's archaeologist all this time, huh?" He let his voice sound a little…edged, just because it was good for Rodney's ego.

Rodney arched an eyebrow. "You're flattering me again. I, on the other hand, might have some reason for concern, since you were off with the archaeologist's general and O'Neill's obviously susceptible to your charm."

He snorted. "Oh, I don't think so."

"Four days and a ship instead of the gate," Rodney said and nibbled delicately at John's earlobe. "I'd say he's susceptible. And Daniel was pretty damn short tempered for the last few days, so I'm guessing he knows just how susceptible."

"Oh, please, if he's not barking at me, he's acting like I'm twelve." John nibbled back, pleased in spite of himself. "Of course, it didn't help that my sisters kept calling me Johnny, as if I really were twelve."

Rodney drew back. "Johnny?" His mouth twitched.

"Don't even think about it," John warned. "I mean it."

"What the hell are you going to do about it. Call me Rodney?" Rodney grinned.

John narrowed his eyes. "I'll think of something."

"Sure you will," Rodney said, his tone soothing. "In the meantime, we don't have carpet, and the floor is cold, up, up."

"I mean it," John warned and untangled himself. Werner gave him a long look when he sprawled on the bed, but went back to grooming himself.

Rodney stood at the foot of the bed, smirking slightly. "Take off your shirt."

John grinned. "I love it when you're bossy."

"That's why I do it." Rodney pulled his own shirt off, climbed on the bed and knee-walked over to straddle John's legs. "And it doesn't matter if O'Neill is susceptible or not, he's got his archaeologist, he can't have my pilot."

John snickered, got kissed as he leaned up pull his shirt over his head. "Who's flattering whom? I'm not even sure he likes me, if you want to know the truth."

"Liar," Rodney laughed at him. "John, everyone likes you."

For no reason, that hit a sore spot. "Not everyone," he said soberly.

Rodney's expression went grave. "Lunatics and sociopaths don't count," he said roughly and kissed John again, sweetly, but with an edge of hunger. "I lied, I missed you."

John smiled again, wrapped both arms around Rodney. "I knew that."

"Of course you did," Rodney agreed and hugged him back. "So I won't be too much of a bastard to O'Neill for bringing you back with a migraine."

"If I had a migraine, would I have my hands down the back of your pants?" John asked, suiting actions to words.

Rodney laughed against his mouth. "I suppose not."

"You know, I'm not the only one who lost a lot of weight," John murmured and sucked gently on Rodney's lower lip. "I mean, I'm not complaining, but you could eat a little more, too."

"I'll remember that." Rodney pushed him backward, leaned down and licked his collarbone. "I did miss you. How could I possibly miss you after only four days? I'm ruined, I'm telling you."

"Cool." He curled his fingers over the soft hair at Rodney's nape. "Me, too."

Soft chuff of Rodney's breath over his throat and Rodney began paying serious attention to his nipples. So good, and he arched up into that, sighing as Rodney held him down with both hands. "God, that's good. We haven't had nearly enough sex in the last few months."

Rodney raised his head. "You were in a coma for nine weeks."

"Well, I didn't do it on purpose." John squirmed, trying to shift Rodney's weight. "So I think we should spend as much time as possible having sex. You know, that whole making up for lost time thing."

Rodney slid down, regrettably removing his weight from where John wanted it, licked his navel, sucked on it. "Actually, that's a very good idea."

"Oh, yeah. But I think, you know, we're both still wearing too many clothes."

"Think of it as a challenge." Rodney unfastened John's pants, tugged impatiently. "Up."

"I'm up, I'm up." John lifted his hips, shivered when Rodney pulled down his pants. "See, only one layer."

"The commando look is very good on you," Rodney agreed gravely and pressed his mouth to the crease of John's thigh, ignoring his thickening cock. "Very good."

John waited until Rodney shifted off him and then rolled them both over, offending Werner and making Rodney laugh. "I have to admit," he told Rodney and bit Rodney's nipple gently, then soothed it with his tongue. "As much as I'm getting off on the whole being seduced and ravished thing, I'm feeling a lot more like ravishing and seducing."

"And people think I'm impatient," Rodney said and squirmed. "Not complaining, by the way," he added, a little breathlessly. "Feel free."

John did. He felt very free, in fact, memorizing Rodney's flesh and bone with his fingertips and lips and tongue until Rodney forcibly pulled him up to turn the tables again. Turnabout was fair enough, at least until he turned it about again, and they were both laughing, practically wrestling until Rodney won just because he knew where John was ticklish and because he still weighed a little more.

He'd never known it was possible to be this turned on and still laughing, not until he'd finally faced himself and what he wanted and Jesus, Rodney could have gotten his doctorate in kissing, he loved the way Rodney kissed. "More," he told Rodney and wrapped one leg around Rodney's hip. "And where's the lube."

Rodney licked John's jaw, sucked on his earlobe. "Somewhere around here."

He pushed his hips up and rubbed skin against skin, whimpering. "Dammit, Rodney, find it."

Rodney nipped his ear. "Quantity is no substitute for quality," he muttered obscurely, and then slid half off John's body, searching frantically on the floor next to the bed. "Ah, here it is."

"Hurry up," John said and bit Rodney's shoulder. "I want some nice, hard fucking."

Rodney twitched. "God."

And then Rodney rolled back on top of him, held his head and kissed him long and hard and deeply enough that he really was breathless when he pushed Rodney back. "Rodney, focus!" And immediately hissed in pleasure and surprise as a big warm hand brushed his balls and a finger stroked into him. "Okay, forget I said anything." Panting a little, he pulled Rodney's head back down, stroked his tongue over Rodney's even as slippery fingers worked more lube into his ass. He pushed down on those fingers and Rodney bit his upper lip, soothed it with a kiss before working them in deeper.

"Oh, fuck, that's good," he panted and shuddered with pleasure. "Just, yeah, please, Rodney."

Rodney pulled his fingers out, shifted to kneel between his legs. He pulled one leg up, hooked it over Rodney's arm and then Rodney pressed in, and it was so fucking good, as intense as the first time, and he wasn't the only one feeling it, Rodney's expression was…fucking incendiary. The stretch and burn and heat, and the flare of pleasure that followed and Rodney's expression, Rodney's expression was intent and effortful and John reached down to touch himself, stroking upward to match Rodney's rhythm and oh, fuck, it was good, so fucking amazing. John had to move, had to arch into it, and he put his other leg over Rodney's shoulder. Rodney sank in more deeply and he was gone, just gone, gripping Rodney's forearm with one hand, hard enough to bruise and jerking himself off slick and fast. Rodney usually held back until he'd pushed John over the edge, but this time, God, this time he saw Rodney's mouth open, heard Rodney groan and give it up for him and that was it, he came just as hard, gasping almost soundlessly with his fingers digging into Rodney's arm and he was probably going to have to really apologize later, but oh, God, God, God…

When John could draw a breath again, Rodney's forehead was against his. "Trying to kill me," Rodney muttered.

"Don't move," he whimpered. "Please."

"Really are," Rodney complained and shivered.

"Mine," he said blurrily and laughed, slung one arm around Rodney's neck. "All mine."

"Bastard." Rodney kissed him anyway. "Have I mentioned how demanding you are?"

"I love you, too," John said happily and was only slightly surprised when Rodney kissed him again, long and lush, sweet and hungry all at the same time, never mind neither of them was in any shape to do a damn thing for a while.

"John," Rodney breathed at last and shivered again. "Jesus, John." He pressed a kiss to the bridge of John's nose, to his eyebrow. "John. John. John."

John smiled, aimed for Rodney's jaw and kissed it. "Uh huh."

Rodney slid an arm around him and rolled them both to their sides. He sighed as their bodies separated, hooked a leg over Rodney's hip and was kissed again. "Hey."

"Hey." Rodney shifted, came back with a shirt—his own, this time—and wiped them both off enough to keep from sticking together. "Welcome back." Another kiss, this one on his mouth. "Welcome home."

John was pretty sure he could hear what Rodney was saying. At least he hoped he could. "Glad to be home," he murmured and rested his forehead against Rodney's shoulder. "Really, really, glad."

Rodney's hand cupped the back of his head. "That makes two of us." Softly.

John smiled, closed his eyes. He was just going to hold on and drift for a minute, he told himself.

Sure.

Rodney was playing with his hair, he thought after a while and batted his hand at Rodney's before burrowing more deeply into the pillow.

But the chuckle came from his left side, while the hand playing with his hair was—he sat upright, freaked out, and Rodney chuckled again. "What?" he asked, and looked over his shoulder. Werner sat on Rodney's pillow, while Rodney sat on the side of the bed. "What the fuck?"

Rodney grinned. "He was grooming you."

"Oh." John raked a hand through his hair. "That was freaky."

Rodney stood up. "Shower?"

"Yeah." John yawned. "And then something to eat. I haven't eaten much in the last couple of days. With one thing and another, I spent more of it sleeping."

Rodney stopped, eyed him. "Eating first."

John grinned. "Works for me."

Rodney pointed at him. "Stay there."

"Cool." John looked at Werner. "Hey, buddy. What do you think so far?"

Rodney snorted and pulled on his pants before walking into the next room.

John slid down in bed and rested his head on his arms. "So why do you need to put clothes on to go into the next room, Rodney?"

"Because our front door is not completely opaque," Rodney called back. "And I don't feel like flashing whoever walks by on their way to the labs or the dining hall."

"We oughta do something about that," John mused.

Werner put a paw on his elbow.

"Werner agrees with me." He heard Rodney laugh. "He does!"

"He's only agreeing because you fed him smoked turkey." Rodney reappeared at the door, holding two packaged sandwiches. "Roast beef on wheat, ham on rye."

"Roast beef," John said. Rodney grinned and left again, returned in a few minutes with two bottles of juice, a plastic bag with what looked like apples, and the two sandwiches.

John sat up again, took a bottle and opened it, drank thirstily. "So what's new in the world of Ancient archaeology?"

Rodney settled next to him, dislodging Werner, who stretched elegantly and stepped into John's lap to investigate his sandwich.

"Don't let him have that, unless you want to wake up to the sound of a cat vomiting," Rodney advised.

"Gross." John ruffled Werner's ears and held the sandwich out of reach, took a bite.

"We've got more ZPMs, and these are good," Rodney said. "Really good. What's interesting is that one of them is in a shielding mechanism like the one on—what was that planet again, with the kids?"

John tried to remember, shook his head. "The planet with the kids," he offered and got a chuckle.

"Anyway, it wasn't powered on, but we actually have powered it on successfully. Jackson thinks it was abandoned when they decided to return to Earth. I think we can move it and provide a very decent shield for the Athosian settlement and possibly, with some work, extend it to cover more of of the arable land in the event we end up evacuating any more people to this planet." Rodney gestured. "And the other ZPM is more than adequate to provide a fairly long term shield for the city. Which frees up some of the others for defenses."

That reminded John. "Oh, hey, that ship, talk about defenses. They've gotta have a ZPM, because Rodney, it was like I was…melded with that board." He sat up straight. "Fucking insane, it was like an acid trip tripled."

Rodney frowned. "And you know this because you've had an acid trip tripled?"

"Well, no." John grinned. "Worst I ever did was pot, Rodney, think who my father was. But it was…weird. Like present and past all mixed together. I could see the ships out in space, I could feel them blowing up—" He sighed. "That's not quite right, either. I don't know how to describe it."

"O'Neill is taking his team back through the gate," Rodney said thoughtfully. "They're leaving the ship for our defenses."

Oh, boy, he practically started salivating. "Jesus, Beckett's got to clear me for flight status."

Rodney frowned again. "Are you insane?"

John blinked, considered how Rodney might feel and managed to bite back any sharp reply that floated through his mind. "Yeah, I guess, I'm a pilot."

That got a smile instead of the fight he felt hovering behind Rodney's frown.

"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten," Rodney said and took another bite of his own sandwich.

He still wanted to fly that ship, even if it wasn't quite as sweet as his jumpers. He wanted the chance to learn what he was doing with that interface, to feel the thing move as if it were his flesh and bone.

But he smiled back and ruffled Werner's ears again instead of saying so. He wasn't really insane, he was really serious about the making up for lost time thing, and Rodney looked really, really good still rumpled.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a shower, John lounged naked on the bed playing solitaire on Rodney's laptop, his feet at the head of the bed while Rodney went through the ton of photographs he'd brought back. "I don't know why they thought I needed this stuff, but I really didn't know how to tell them no thanks."

Rodney was sitting up against the head of the bed, barefoot, but otherwise dressed. "These are perfectly charming," he said and chuckled. "I see your hair never has behaved normally."

"Except the year my dad had the barber buzz me," John said and poked his foot at Rodney's hip. "Boy, was my mom pissed. I can't say I was totally thrilled, but since I was only six, I got over it."

"This must be from that era." Rodney chuckled again, waved a faded photograph at him. "You look like your dad."

"Yeah, I guess."

"So do your sisters, actually."

"The Sheppard genes took over."

Rodney absently patted the back of John's calf. "Oh, thank God, braces, I was beginning to think even your adolescence was perfect."

"Hey!" He poked again. "I was so not perfect. Jesus, Rodney, you have some exaggerated idea of my childhood."

"Just kidding." Rodney took hold of his calf, shook at it. "I'm not sure my parents even have any pictures of me."

John grinned. "I bet they do."

"What?" Rodney's tone was mildly alarmed. "John, what the hell did you do?"

John laughed. "I didn't do anything, I couldn't get up to Canada. Major Davis did it, he dug around and got some pics left over from your background checks." He looked over his shoulder. "You were a really cute kid, Rodney. I've seen your school pictures from the age of 5 on. I figured it was only fair, since Jan and Marilyn forced these on me."

"Jesus, you scared me, I thought you'd looked up my parents." Rodney went back to surveying John's less than perfect childhood and then looked up. "Cute?"

"You were." John grinned. "And for the record, your hair was way fluffier than mine."

"But yours stayed that way." Rodney's tone was dismissive, but he massaged John's ankle.

A chime sounded. "What was that?" John asked.

"Oh, it's a doorbell, sort of, I set it up before I left for the mainland." Rodney sighed. "Someone's at the door."

John grinned. "Well, since I'm not dressed, you better get it."

Rodney sighed, set the pictures aside and got up, pausing only to goose him.

John yelped, laughed and went back to his game.

Rodney's voice was muted; John heard other voices and ignored them. He did, however, hitch a corner of the sheet over his ass and continued playing. The problem with computer games, dammit, was that he couldn't cheat out any aces on the computer.

"Uh, John." Rodney returned and he closed the bedroom door. "You might want to put some clothes on."

"Why?" He looked sidelong at Rodney. "I'm not on duty yet, I should be able to lie around naked if I want."

"Because Elizabeth's brought O'Neill and Jackson over for a friendly chat." Rodney arched an eyebrow.

"Maybe we should have just moved me into your old quarters," John groused and got up. "People wouldn't just drop by for friendly chats if we were living in one room."

"Elizabeth would have." Rodney handed him clean jeans and a clean shirt.

John pulled them on, still grumbling under his breath, and then followed Rodney back out into the living room.

Elizabeth was sitting gingerly on the sofa, while Jackson and O'Neill stood uncomfortably. She brightened when he came out, so it was hard to hold on to bad temper. "John."

"Elizabeth." John looked at O'Neill. "General. Dr. Jackson."

"Daniel, please," Jackson said and smiled. "I hear you used the Ancient tech to spectacular effect on the way over. No ill effects?"

"Other than a migraine, no," John glanced at Elizabeth. "Really."

"You do look better," she said judiciously.

"See, I told you," O'Neill said. "He's fine."

That was what this was about? "I'm fine," John agreed.

"That's good, but don't forget to stop by and see Carson tomorrow." Elizabeth's tone was mild. "He did say if you used more than one of the injectors to see him."

Well, hell, he'd nearly forgotten that.

"Yeah, I will."

"There you go, Dr. Weir. And now you've got a larger ship at your disposal, one with more defense capabilities." O'Neill gestured expansively.

"And you've got another ZPM, even if it's not full power," Elizabeth said cheerfully. "And we have an appointment in five days for some diplomatic meetings."

"Yes, yes, we do." O'Neill held out his hand. "Major, pleasure doing business with you. I thank you, General Hammond thanks you, and I'm sure the Pentagon thanks you."

O'Neill was in an incredibly cheerful mood, but then if Rodney was right, he might have the same reason John had—and John could not keep a straight face with that in the back of his mind, so he shoved it under hard.

Even if he had noticed what he swore was a love bite just at the edge of Daniel Jackson's collar.

He shook O'Neill's hand. "Thank you, sir. And thanks for everything."

Jackson also held his hand out to shake. "Take good care of each other,' he said softly. "In our line of work, things can get shaky too damn quick."

"That's the truth," John agreed. "Thanks."

"We'll be seeing you again, soon." O'Neill was expansive. "And Major, I did mention to Dr. Weir and Colonel Borden that if you get cleared for flight duty, you get a shot at the ship, too."

Elizabeth's mouth twitched. "We'll see what Dr. Beckett says."

John managed, barely, not to roll his eyes. "Elizabeth, I already flew it."

"Nevertheless."

O'Neill did roll his eyes, but at Jackson. "Well, take care of yourself, Major. I'm expected to deliver mail to your sisters at regular intervals."

"I know." John couldn't help smiling. "I never knew how scary they could be."

"They obviously didn't want you to see it," O'Neill said mildly. "Being the youngest and all. So stay safe, they scare me."

Rodney was smirking.

"Thanks, I'll do my best."

Elizabeth got up, patted his shoulder as she went past. "Well, General, let's see you off."

"Sounds good."

Jackson shook Rodney's hand. "Hopefully, I'll be back," he told Rodney and looked warily at O'Neill.

"When we can spare him." O'Neill followed Elizabeth to the door. "Let's go, Daniel."

Long suffering expression, but Jackson followed. When the door closed behind them, John rolled his eyes. "I had to get dressed for that?"

"Hey, I only let them in." Rodney shrugged. "How about some ice cream?"

"I could eat," John allowed. "Are you still on this feed me up binge or something?"

"John, as fond as I am of your ass, there isn't much of it." Rodney retrieved the ice cream for John and a protein bar for himself. "You look like someone hit you with a shovel."

"That hurts my feelings," John said, taking the ice cream. "Just for that, I'm leaving my jeans on."

"Of course you are," Rodney agreed, "Until you get horny again."

"I'm always horny, I thought we'd established that."

"I know, you're a medical marvel. I've considered discussing this with Carson to see if it's related to the ATA gene."

"That would explain you, too," John told him and went back into the bedroom. "And I'm thinking you don't get the presents I bought you if you're going to insult my ass."

"I was certainly not insulting it, I was merely pointing out that it's somewhat diminished, and frankly, John, it's never been abundant." Rodney was watching him sprawl on the bed again. "Not that it isn't attractive. And don't get ice cream on my keyboard."

"I wasn't planning to. But I could get ice cream on you."

Rodney smirked and came back to take up the box of photographs again. "You could, yes."

"And I might." But he sat up next to Rodney, put a leg over Rodney's and rubbed the sole of his foot over the top of Rodney's. "Especially if you keep dissing my ass."

"I have never and would never diss your ass." Rodney bumped his shoulder against John's.

"In that case, you could get lucky again when this ice cream is gone." John rubbed his foot over Rodney's again.

"A medical marvel," Rodney repeated. "Really, Carson could make medical history by writing you up."

"I don't hear you saying no," John scoffed. "Ever, in fact. Except when I was in the infirmary."

"I'm not much of an exhibitionist. A voyeur, yes, not an exhibitionist." Rodney nudged him again. "So feel free to start without me."

"Perv," John said approvingly. "I'll give it some serious consideration."

"Great, something to look forward to."

Rodney sorted through more photographs while noshing on his protein bars. "You were kind of hot when you went off to the Academy."

"You are a perv, I was only eighteen." He spared a glance for his skinny eighteen year old self. "At least the braces were gone."

"I would have been seventeen, that makes me horny, not a pervert." Rodney pulled another picture out, looked at the back. "Good grief, what is this, your christening?"

He looked, frowned. "Well, that's Marilyn and Jan. I dunno who the kid is."

Rodney showed him the back of the picture. "Johnny's baptism," he read.

"Christ, they put baby pictures in there?" He snatched the picture from Rodney, outraged.

"You're wearing a dress," Rodney pointed out.

"It's a christening gown," John protested. "And hey, it's not like I had a choice. Jeez, I wasn't even old enough to crawl from the date on this."

"And look at that hair," Rodney pointed out. "Your hair has been possessed since the day you were born."

"It can't be possessed, I was baptized, they poured holy water over my head."

Rodney ruffled his hair affectionately. "I like your hair. Too bad you had to get it whacked off at the SGC."

"It'll grow." John couldn't keep from laughing, it was all so ordinary, so Rodney, so him, and so normal. Normal was good, he'd been starting to feel like he'd never see this side of normal again, and here they were.

Rodney tipped him an amused look. "What?"

"You know, if we overlook the life-sucking alien vampires, the toxic tea, the intermittent food shortages, the floating energy sucking darkness, and the whole nine weeks in a coma thing, life is pretty damn good."

Rodney laughed, and for once, it sounded like Rodney's real laughter, unweighted by shadows. "You're one of those glass half-full guys, aren't you."

"You noticed!" John laughed again, was kissed soundly. "One of us has to be." The lines around Rodney's eyes and between his eyebrows had finally lifted, and the tension he'd been seeing for weeks around Rodney's mouth was gone, relaxed, that lovely, snarky, mobile mouth back to normal.

Normal.

Normal was pretty damn good.


	11. Chapter 11

Beckett explained, once before John agreed and let himself be bullied into a hospital gown and a bed, and twice more again, all with a lot tolerance and diagrams and reassurances. While John could follow a discussion on physics and mathematics without too much trouble, medicine, especially when it came to discussions of his spinal cord, nerve endings and vertebrae, tended to bypass his brain and go directly to his solar plexus.

He tried to listen intelligently, or at least give the appearance of listening intelligently, although he suspected he'd blown that when he asked, for the fourth time, "But you don't have to actually rebreak anything, right?"

Beckett's expression was endlessly patient. "No, John."

"Okay. And Rodney's going to be there?" John glanced at the IV line. "If this is Ancient tech, do you really have to put me out?"

Rodney, arms folded, grimaced. "Wouldn't you rather be out?"

"Well, no." John looked at the IV again, shook his head.

"No general anesthesia, John, just a little something to relax you." Beckett sighed. "Because I'd still feel a great deal more comfortable knowing you were completely relaxed, even with Ancient technology."

John sighed. "Okay." Rodney's expression was relieved. "You understand all this, right?" he asked, and suspected he was whining.

Beckett's mouth twitched. "As much as he understands voodoo."

"One little remark and he never forgets," Rodney muttered and then, "Mostly, yes, and I do trust Carson."

"Okay." John was still nervous, though, and it burned when Carson started the trank in the IV.

"Lie down," Rodney said, sounding a little nervous himself. He patted John's shoulder. "And just relax."

"Like I have a choice John said and leaned back against the pillow, mostly because he was starting to feel woozy. "Whoa, this is some good stuff."

Beckett smiled. "Aye, just let it take you, John. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"We don't have to actually scrub or anything," Rodney said and patted him again.

"Am I going to feel any of this?" Okay, he really was whining. He was pretty sure he'd asked that at least five times already.

"You might feel some warmth," Rodney told him. Beckett had gone, and it took him a minute to remember that Beckett had told him so.

"This is pretty freaky," he told Rodney blurrily. "Was it freaky last time?"

"It was worse." Rodney took his hand, squeezed it. "Much, much worse."

He kept forgetting, and he felt a pang. "Oh, yeah, I forgot you had to be in there when…" He squeezed Rodney's fingers back. "Sorry."

"It was freaky," Rodney repeated. "But this is a lot better. All you have to do is relax, yelp if you're uncomfortable, and then, when Carson's done, all you have to do is let the tranquilizer wear off, and you can leave." He rubbed his thumb over John's palm. "One helluva lot better."

"Have I mentioned I'm glad you're here?" The drug was tugging at John, pulling him adrift. He was glad of Rodney's hand, to keep him anchored.

"Yeah, but it's still reassuring to hear it."

The world narrowed down to flashes of dream and the feel of Rodney's fingers around his. John surfaced briefly when Mira and Beckett had him shift from bed to another surface and lie on his stomach, and a nice warm blanket covered him to his shoulders. Something cool touched his neck and he stirred.

"Easy, John," Beckett said softly, near his ear. "This is just to keep your head still, don't worry. Are you warm enough?"

He made an affirmative sound, but his mouth was dry. "Can we hurry it up?"

"It's okay." Rodney's voice and Rodney's hand was warm over his. "He's just getting started.

Reassured, John let himself drift again, dreamt in nonsensical snatches about surfing off the coast near the Athosian settlement and that turned into a dream of running through the city, steady slap of his shoes against the floor and taste of sweat on his upper lip. The sweat turned coppery and he realized it was blood, wiped his upper lip on his sleeve and turned his head in time to take a blow that snapped his head back hard—

"Easy." Beckett's voice was too loud. "Mira, turn that up."

"No!" John couldn't turn his head, there was something cold holding his head in one place and panic welled up.

"Wait a minute." Rodney's voice, just as loud. "Dammit, Carson, give me a minute."

John took in one breath and then another, and Rodney's hand was warm on his again and he remembered where he was.

"It's just a dream," Rodney murmured. "You back with me, John?"

"Yeah." His mouth was too damn dry. "I'm here, I'm okay." But he shivered, felt an echo of pain. "How much longer?"

"Not too long." Beckett's hand rested on his back. "How are you doing?"

"Bad dreams." John swallowed, heard a click. "'m thirsty, too."

"Can you hang on a wee bit longer?"

"Yeah, I guess." He was so fucking snowed, only it didn't feel good any more. He tightened his fingers around Rodney's. "Just don't let me go all the way under, okay?"

"All right." Beckett patted him again.

"I'm right here, John." Rodney's voice, steady and calm and real. "I'll keep talking, if you like, keep you awake."

"Good." John took in a deep breath, let the tension slip away, and that was better; listening to Rodney talk about the latest experiment with the dismantled ZPM they'd found last year was better. He could follow a lot of it, and it wouldn't have mattered, even if Rodney had been speaking in Greek, it was Rodney, and it was real, it wasn't some phantom out of a past he couldn't consciously remember sneaking into his dreams and scaring the shit out of him. Now that he was awake, more or less, he could feel a sensation like warmth traveling down nerve endings. It wasn't painful, just weird, but he could feel muscles unlock where the heat traveled, and that part felt good.

"How are you doing, John?" Beckett asked, interrupting Rodney.

"Good." He squeezed Rodney's fingers again.

"We're nearly finished here." Another pat on his back.

"Great stuff, this technology," Rodney said. "When he gets done, I'll get you some ice water."

"Sounds great." John sighed, and felt heat travel down his spine, not just warmth, but heat. "That feels weird," he said, a little alarmed.

"All done." Beckett leaned over him and the thing holding his head in place shifted and was gone.

Mira put another warm blanket over him. "Just lie still, Major," she said cheerfully. "Dr. Beckett wants you to stay relaxed for a little while longer, but I'll get you some water now."

"Great." John turned his head, saw Rodney sitting near the head of the table. "That's it, huh?"

"That's it."

He smiled blurrily. "Cool."

Sudden sting on his arm, and he lifted his head to see Beckett putting a bandaid where the IV had been.

"Lie down," Beckett told him. "Just for a bit. You'll start feeling a bit more alert, soon."

John put his head back down and yawned. "And then I can get out of here?"

"And then you can get out of here." Beckett sounded amused. "Mira, where's that—ah, here you go. Rodney, would you like to do the honors?"

Rodney reached up out of John's line of sight and then guided a straw to his mouth. The water was icy and delicious and that's what he hated about being snowed, not only did it leave a nasty taste, but it dried out his mouth and throat like crazy. Thirst slaked, he was content to lie under the nice warm blankets and drift while listening to Rodney and Beckett talk about neuromuscular this and that.

When John surfaced again, Rodney was patting his face gently. "Feel like getting up?"

John did, actually, and let Rodney help him sit up. He was back on the gurney again, and in one corner of the infirmary. "Whoa, when did I move?"

Rodney grinned and steadied him. "You were pretty out of it again. We just rolled you over and wheeled you out."

"That's kinda creepy," he complained and let his legs dangle over the side of the gurney. "Where's m'clothes?"

"Right here." Rodney patted the foot of the gurney. "Carson says as soon as you're awake enough, he wants another look at you, and then you can leave."

John nodded, yawned and stretched over to grab his pants. "'S he gonna clear me for flight?"

"Patience, grasshopper."

He tried, but Rodney had to keep him from falling over when he shimmied into his pants. At least they mostly fit these days.

Beckett came in while he was finding his sleeves, and grinned at him when he pulled the shirt down. "In a hurry?"

"I hate those gowns," John grumbled. "They're drafty."

Beckett's grin just got broader. "Well, I'm very pleased with the results, John. I think that this will definitely alleviate the frequency and severity of the headaches. For the time being, I'm ready to approve you for flight duty with a backup pilot and on world."

John couldn't help returning that grin. "I'm not hearing a but or an if in there, Doc."

"No ifs or buts. Except, I think it's likely I'll be able to approve full flight duty after a period of observation. I told you, I'm very pleased with the neurological readings. You may still have to live with a migraine now and then, but nothing like what you've had, and it should be manageable."

"Ah, good news." Elizabeth's voice, and Elizabeth came around the curtain. "Sorry, not eavesdropping, but I wanted to see how John was."

John gave her a thumb's up sign. "Good to go."

Elizabeth's smile was genuine. "Very good news. You feel like doing some flight time tomorrow?"

Beckett glanced at her, nodded. "I've got to go to the mainland and see to the newest crop of babies. Three in the last two weeks."

"I'd love it," John said. "Hey, Rodney, wanna back me up? You need an afternoon outdoors, don't you?"

"I could stand it," Rodney said judiciously. "Besides, I told Halling I had an idea for increasing his meathla production."

"Oh, dear." Elizabeth laughed softly. "No flying under the influence. And no trading pot for meathla, Rodney."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Elizabeth, if we had spare pot, I'd keep it for myself."

John burst out laughing. "Jesus, I guess I'm glad I'm in the Atlantis Air Force these days."

Elizabeth laughed again. "Maybe I'll promote you, John. We can't have the head of our Air Force jockeying for position with Borden."

"Just don't demote me." John grinned, and the sun broke through the afternoon clouds, an absurdly obvious omen that made him laugh. "I was right, you know. Atlantis is home after all." He looked at Rodney.

"Home," Rodney said, not without a certain self-deprecatory tone, "is where the heart is."

"And the puddle jumper," Elizabeth said.

John kept looking at Rodney, though. Rodney had the right of it. "Let's get out of here."

Slow smile and a nod.

John was, after all these years, really home.


End file.
